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THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


BY MARGARET R. PIPER 

Sylvia’s Experiment: The Cheerful Book 
(.Trade Mark) 

Net $1.35; carriage paid, $1.50 
Sylvia of the Hill Top: The Second Cheerful Book 

(Trade Mark) 

Net $1.35 ; carriage paid, $1.50 

The Princess and the Clan 
$1.50 

The House on the Hill 
$1.50 

THE PAGE COMPANY 
53 BEACON STREET, BOSTON, MASS. 




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‘‘ TONY STOOD STOCK STILL AND STARED AT THE STOWAWAY.” 

(See page ii8.) 


THE HOUSE 
ON THE HILL 


BY 

■nu/,. MARGARET R,- PIPER 

AUTHOR OF 

“Sylvia’s Experiment; The Cheerful Book,” 
Trade Mark 

“Sylvia of the Hill Top: The Second Cheerful Book, ’ * 

Trade Mark 

“The Princess and the Clan,” Etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

ELIZABETH WITHIN GTON 


iiSfa'i 


THE PAGE COMPANY 
BOSTON ^ MDCCCCXVII 




'V.'.rs; 



Copyright, 1917, hy 
The Page Company 

All rights reserved 


First Impression, February, 1917 



MAy 31 1917 


©CU462777 
'WO ( 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Lamberts 1 

II The Holidays 14 

III Getting Adjusted 26 

IV Of Many Things’^ 35 

V “Fair and Warmer” .... 48 

VI Before the Fourth .... 57 
VII The End of the Celebration . . 69 

VIII The Fourth 80 

IX The “Slough of Despond” . . 92 

X The Way to Fairyland . . . 103 

XI Tony Discovers 115 

XII Dick 127 

XIII The Spell of Fairyland . . . 136 

XIV Entertaining Evelyn .... 145 

XV The Bound Table 158 

XVI Water ’Scapes and Confessions . 169 

XVII Dr. Phil’s Fourth 180 

XVIII The Family Catastrophe . . . 191 

XIX Some More OF THE Same AND Larry 201 

XX Disappearances 212 

XXI Tony Ventures 224 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXII Op Hunches and So Forth . .236 

XXIII The Great Secret 246 

XXIV A State op War 259 

XXV The Test 271 

XXVI The Feud 284 

XXVII Preparations 298 

XXVIII The Banquet 313 


LIST OF ILLUSTEATIONS 


PAGE 

‘Tony stood stock still and stared at the 
stowaway’’ {See page 118 ) . Frontispiece 


‘Jean thought she had never heard so 
MUSICAL A voice” 42 

‘He smiled down at her” 87 

‘Without a word Phil flashed into the 
water” 171 


‘Dr. Phil came over and put a kind hand 
ON THE boy’s shoulder” 218 

‘She whirled around with scarlet cheeks 
AND ANGRY EYES” 261 






THE 

HOUSE ON THE HILL 


CHAPTER I 

THE LAMBERTS 

‘ ‘ Char-ley ! Charley ! Charley Lambert ! 
Where are youU’ called Clare from the hall. 

The twins always shouted for everything 
before they looked for it on general princi- 
ples, even when the lost article was the miss- 
ing half of themselves. 

‘^Here I am,” and Charley lifted a tum- 
bled brown head from among the hammock 
cushions on the porch and put her finger in 
the place where she left off in her book. 

^‘Where’s here? Oh, there you are!” 
Clare appeared in the doorway, looking so 
precisely like her twin — ^middy blouse, black 
tie, brown pigtail, dancing blue eyes and all 
1 


2 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


— that an uninitiated onlooker might have 
thought he was seeing double. ‘‘Mother says 
for us to hull these berries quick so we can 
have shortcake for supper.’’ 

Charley sat up and shut her book. 

“I love shortcake, but oh, you hulls!” she 
paraphrased. “Bring ’em over here. I’m 
too lazy to get up.” 

Clare obeyed, and the two were soon en- 
sconced in the sailor hammock with the great 
bowl of luscious scarlet strawberries between 
them. 

“Oh, dear, don’t you wish we’d been born 
boys so we wouldn’t have to do housework? 
I bet Phil’s off somewhere having a good 
time.” Charley paused to nibble a particu- 
larly tempting berry and meditate on the in- 
equalities of sex discrimination. 

“You are half a one, anyway,” laughed 
Clare. “You’ve got a boy’s name.” 

“Much good that does me. The real 
thing’s feminine enough and ugly enough in 
all conscience. Charlotte Cordelia Lambert ! 
Ugh ! What a mouthful ! ’ ’ 

“No worse than Clarissa Elvira,” retorted 


THE LAMBERTS 


3 


her twin. ‘‘I don’t see whatever possessed 
Mother to let Aunt Charlotte name us. She 
might have known the result would have been 
fearful and wonderful. Thank goodness she 
isn’t our mother! She’d have more than 
forty cat-nips a moment, I’m thinking. 
Doesn’t seem possible Mums could have had 
a sister like that, does it?” 

‘‘Maybe it’s because Mother got married,” 
opined Charley. 

“That settles it, Charley, ire’ll get mar- 
ried.” And Clare brought her fist down so 
emphatically that the bowl all but capsized. 

“Supposing nobody asks you?” suggested 
a new voice from the steps. 

‘ ‘ Oh, Phil ! How you made me jump ! ’ ’ 

“Where have you been?” The twins 
usually talked in chorus. It saved time. 

Phil deposited himself on the piazza rail- 
ing and proceeded to fan himself with his 
cap. He was the only boy in the family, a 
fact which he frequently pretended to deplore 
but, as a matter of fact, he rather enjoyed his 
prerogatives as the sole male of the group 
and submitted with fairly good grace to the 


4 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


alternative courses of tyranny and admira- 
tion, teasing and petting, which he received 
at the hands of his four sisters. 

‘‘Come, hold my hand, darling,’’ invited 
Clare roguishly, extending her berry-stained 
fingers in his direction. 

“Go to the juice,” he replied tranquilly, 
leaning forward, however, to purloin some 
berries. 

“Where did you say you had been?” pur- 
sued Charley, bent on information. 

“Didn’t say, but since you are so kind as 
to ask I don’t mind telling you I’ve been 
driving with Dr. Phil. Heard the corkingest 
news, too!” 

“What?” 

“Tell us.” Thus the chorus. 

But Phil chose to be provoking. 

“You would be so excited you would never 
get the berries done if I told you. Guess I’d 
better not.” 

“Aren’t you mean?” 

“Keep your old news. Bet it isn’t worth 
hearing.” 

“Isn’t it though? Just you wait and see. 


THE LAMBERTS 


5 


It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened 
on this Hill for many a day, I tell you that, 
Miss Charlotte Cordelia Lambert.” 

‘‘Twinnies, aren’t the berries ready?” 
asked Mrs. Lambert from the doorway. 

‘‘Just a wee minute, Mumsie.” And 
Clare’s fingers flew to make up for lost time. 

“Come out and take a breathe,” invited 
Charley. 

Mrs. Lambert stepped out. To an outsider 
she would have appeared simply as a middle- 
aged, rather plain woman, with graying hair 
and singularly fine eyes. But to her children 
“Mumsie” was the loveliest lady in the 
land. 

“Where have you been, Phil? Didn’t 
Father ask you to mow the lawn?” 

Phil’s hands came out of his pockets and 
he gave vent to a whistle. 

“Clean forgot all about it,” he apologized. 
“Sorry. I’ll do it after supper.” 

“Phil’s forgettery is dreadful long,” inter- 
polated Charley slyly. “He’s the laziest! I 
b’lieve he forgets on purpose, don’t you. 
Mums?” 


6 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Mrs. Lambert shook her head and smiled 
at her son. 

‘‘No, I don^t think that, but I do think 
he needs to shorten the ‘forgettery.’ How 
about it, SonT’ 

“Maybe,’’ said Phil, noncommittally. 

“Help the girls with the berries now. 
Father will be here in a minute.” 

“Oh bother!” For Phil hated to do 
“girls’ jobs” as he called it. “They’re al- 
most done. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Help them and they will be done sooner, ’ ’ 
smiled his mother as she went back into the 
house. She had a way of smiling when she 
gave orders, but the orders had the way of 
getting obeyed also. Phil shrugged but 
joined the girls since needs must. 

“Good enough for you. Sir Lazy Bones!” 
exulted Charley. 

“Do tell us your news,” begged Clare. 

“Jewett’s have got a boarder,” he offered 
with a grin. 

“Pooh! We’ve known that three hours, 
haven’t we, Clare? I don’t call that excit- 
ing.” 


THE LAMBERTS 


7 


‘‘Her name is Ericson and she’s from Bos- 
ton,” supplied Clare. “Is that all you 
know?” disappointedly. 

“Not by a long shot. But, since you’re so 
mighty particular. I’ll keep my really choice 
bit to myself.” 

“Twins, aren’t you ever going to get 
through with those berries?” 

Unlike the mother’s, the new voice from the 
doorway had a sharp edge to it. 

“Come and do it yourself, if you’re in such 
a tearing hurry,” responded Charley pertly, 
as Jean, the oldest Lambert, joined the group. 

“I’ve been getting supper. I can’t do 
everything, can I?” snapped Jean. “Phil, 
stop eating those berries.” 

Whereupon, Phil, driven to extremes by 
the dictatorial tone, helped himself to a gen- 
erous handful of fruit. Jean had the un- 
lucky knack of rubbing the younger children 
the wrong way. 

“Done!” cried Clare, springing up, and, in 
her haste, upsetting the basket of hulls. 

“There! I never saw such careless chil- 
dren in my life,” groaned Jean to whose 


8 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


housewifely soul the disorder on the clean 
porch was a positive physical pain. Go and 
sweep that mess up before supper/^ she 
added sharply. 

But Clare ran past her sister with a laugh. 

“Orders thankfully not received/^ she 
called back from the hall. 

Jean followed with severely disapproving 
countenance. 

“Cross patch! Draw the latch 1^’ mocked 
Charley. It had always been one of the fam- 
ily complications that the twins aided and 
abetted each other in all pursuits. If one 
was naughty it was all but inevitable that 
the other would be, too. 

“Mother — ’’ began Jean as the procession 
reached the dining-room. 

“Mums,’’ interrupted Clare, “I spilled the 
hulls on the piazza and I’ll sweep ’em up the 
first thing after supper — the hull of ’em.” 

“Very well, dear,” tranquilly. 

“And, Mums, I wish you’d please tell Jean 
she isn’t our boss, if she is three years older.” 

“She’s always pitching into us,” put in 
Charley aggressively. 


THE LAMBERTS 


9 


^‘Mother, those children get ruder every 
day. I think — 

‘^That will do for all of you,’^ said Mrs. 
Lambert decisively. ‘‘Every one of you get 
ready for supper. Father ^s coming into the 
yard. ’ ’ 

And presently they were all assembled 
around the supper table, a cheerful, not to 
say hilarious, group. Friction was rarely 
permanent in the Lambert family, and was in- 
deed not permitted to manifest itself at meal- 
times, which were usually gala seasons. 
Jean was rather silent to-night and still 
slightly aggrieved, but Phil and the twins and 
the garrulous small seven-year-old Eleanor, 
made up generously for any omissions' of con- 
versation on the part of the oldest daughter. 

The twins, remembering they had not ex- 
torted PhiPs news, returned to the charge. 
This, being an irresistible opportunity to 
tease, he continued to withhold his informa- 
tion, at the same time shrewdly aggravating 
his sisters’ curiosity until it nearly reached 
the boiling point. 

“Why don’t you ask me?” intervened Mr. 


10 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Lambert presently. ‘‘IVe been talking with 
Dr. Philip myself.’^ 

‘ ‘ Hurray ! Father knows ! ’ ’ Charley clapped 
her hands gleefully. “You can keep your 
old secret now, Phil Lambert. You needn’t 
be so smarty, either.” 

“Gently! Gently!” said Mr. Lambert. 
“ShaU I tell, Phil?” 

Phil gave a slightly crestfallen grunt of as- 
sent. He had not counted on having the wind 
taken out of his sails from that quarter. 

“I don’t care,” he managed to add good- 
humoredly. 

“Go ahead. It is your story. Only get it 
over with quickly before the twins go up in 
spontaneous combustion. ’ ’ 

“There are three more children coming to 
live on the Hill,” announced Phil. 

“My goodness!” 

“Goodness me! Who? Where?” added 
Charley. 

“They are Holidays, and they are going to 
live at Dr. Phil’s.” 

“Edward Holiday’s children?” asked Mrs. 
Lambert of her husband. 


THE LAMBERTS 


11 


‘‘Yes, the Colonel has been ordered to some 
remote post on the border and decided to send 
the children East to their grandmother/^ 

“Poor souls!’’ muttered Charley, almost 
under her breath. ‘ ‘ Are they girls or boys ? ’ ’ 

“Assorted,” grinned Phil. “Two boys 
and one girl. Laurence is about Jean’s age, 
I guess, and Antoinette is fourteen and Ted is 
twelve. ’ ’ 

“Just like us.” Chorus, in unison. 

“The saints forbid.” 

“Where have they been living I” asked 
Clare, while Charley paused to shake her fist 
at her brother. 

“I thinh Colonel Holiday was stationed 
near Yellowstone Park,” said her father. 

“Fancy living next door to a geyser! 
Haven’t they any mother!” 

“She died when the youngest boy was 
born.” 

There was a moment’s hush. To the young 
Lamberts the idea of life without a mother 
was next to inconceivable. 

“Oh, Mumsie!” sighed Clare. “Aren’t 
we glad we have you!” 


12 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Her mother smiled back understandingly, 
then turned to Jean. 

‘‘Did you know Miss Ericson was an art- 
ist?’’ she asked. 

Jean’s rather somber face lit with a quick 
flame of interest. 

“Is she?” she asked eagerly. With all her 
heart Jean longed to be an artist herself and 
the news that one of the profession was a 
next door neighbor was almost breath-taking 
in its possibilities. 

“The Hill’s getting mighty popular. 
Father, I went riding with Dr. Phil this after- 
noon and forgot to mow the lawn.” 

“Where did the doctor go?” 

“Over to the Four-Corners to see a man 
who has typhoid fever.” 

“What if he had forgotten to go?” 

Phil colored, catching the drift of his 
father’s remarks, and took a hasty swallow of 
water to hide his discomfiture. 

“And what if Mother forgot to see that you 
had three meals a day? What would you 
think?” 

“That the world was coming to an end, I 


THE LAMBERTS 


13 


guess. Please, don^t try it, Mums.^^ And 
Phil shot a merry hut half shame-faced glance 
at his mother. 

“What do you suppose Mrs. Holiday will 
do with three children under her own roof ? ^ ’ 
wondered Clare. “She thinks we are bad 
enough, across the street. ^ ^ 

“Good for her,’’ promptly from Charley. 

“On the principle that affliction is good for 
the soul?” teased her father. 

“Now, Daddy Lambert, that is horrid of 
you. How dare you call us afflictions?” 
And Charley shook her head reprovingly at 
her father. 

“They say afflictions never come singly. 
You twinnies are a shining example of that 
bit of wisdom,” chuckled Phil. 


CHAPTER II 


THE HOLIDAYS 

In the big house across the street a more 
sedate company was gathered for the evening 
meal. Here were more mahogany and cut 
glass and fine china but less light-hearted talk 
and gay laughter. The Reverend Edward 
Holiday disposed of his food abstractedly and 
in silence, his fine old face wearing the far- 
away expression which meant his mind was 
already occupied with his next Sunday ^s ser- 
mon or possibly a new chapter on ‘‘The Mys- 
ticism of the Puritan Religion.’’ Philip, his 
son, was also somewhat absorbed in the con- 
sideration of a perplexing case he was trying 
to diagnose. As for the handsome, austere 
lady who was dispensing perfect tea in ex- 
quisite china cups that had been in the family 
for four generations, a faint frown had settled 
on her forehead and presently she sighed por- 
tentously. 


14 


THE HOLIDAYS 


15 


Dr. Holiday, or Dr. Phil, as he was known 
all over the county to distinguish him from 
his father, looked up with a smile. 

‘‘What is it. Mother! The children 
again! 

“Yes. I cannot help dreading their com- 
ing. It is hard to change one ’s way of life at 
my age,’’ plaintively. 

“Anybody would think you were a hundred 
instead of being the handsomest, well pre- 
servedest lady in the state. ’ ’ Her son Philip 
was the only person who ever dared tease 
Mrs. Holiday. From him she tolerated, 
though did not encourage, pleasantries. 

“I do hope they won’t be lively children,” 
she sighed. 

Dr. Phil threw back his head and laughed 
aloud at this. 

“Don’t cherish vain hopes, lady Mother. 
Children who aren’t lively don’t deserve the 
name. They are going to be a Godsend, 1 
think. You and I and Father are getting to 
be about as set as tombstones and nearly as 
gay. We need livening, don’t we. Father!” 

Dr. Holiday, Senior, came out of his trance. 


16 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


doubt we do, Philip,’’ he agreed. 
often envy Neighbor Lambert his brood.” 

‘‘I can’t say I share your enthusiasm. If 
Ned’s children had had any bringing up it 
would be different.” 

‘‘My dear Hester, surely you do Ned scant 
justice,” remonstrated her husband mildly. 
“The children may have missed some refining 
home influences, but, if I know Ned, they 
have been trained in the essentials.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, no doubt he has done the best he could 
under the circumstances, but he is only a man, 
and an army post is certainly a very undesir- 
able place to bring up children. ’ ’ 

“Exactly Ned’s contention,” put in her son. 
‘ ‘ That is precisely why he is sending the chil- 
dren to you.” 

It was a tactful speech and the frown re- 
laxed. 

“For my part, I am mighty glad to have 
the youngsters,” he continued. “Poor kid- 
dies! We mustn’t forget their mother — ” 

“Philip, unfortunately we cannot forget 
their mother but, at least, we can refrain from 
mentioning her.” 


THE HOLIDAYS 


17 


‘^Commend me to the prejudices of a real 
New Englander,’^ thought Philip. ‘‘Poor 
Laura ! The possession of all the virtues in 
the universe wouldnT atone, according to 
Mother, for the damning fact that she was a 
public singer.^’ 

A few days later he went to New York to 
meet the children who had come East in the 
care of an officer's wife. As speedily as pos- 
sible he transferred them from the hotel to 
the Grand Central Station and thence to the 
New England train. It was not until he had 
them settled, bag and baggage, boys and 
girl, that he had time to study the new- 
comers. 

Opposite him diagonally with his face 
pressed close to the window, watching the 
scurrying landscape, was Edward Holiday, 
the third, familiarly known as Ted. He was 
a round-faced, blue-eyed, cherubic-looking 
youngster and appeared surpassingly inno- 
cent and docile as he sat there very quietly. 
But Dr. Phil, remembering his brother’s 
warning, “ ’Ware Ted. Don’t let his angel 
looks fool you for a minute,” smiled inwardly. 


18 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Directly across, sat his niece, Antoinette, also 
very quiet, hut very alert and observing, and 
altogether too much like her beautiful mother 
to be very reassuring, considering Mrs. Holi- 
day’s prejudices in that direction. There 
was something so radiant, so flamelike in the 
child’s rich, dark loveliness that more than 
one passenger turned to note and comment, 
and her uncle scarcely wondered at it. Be- 
side him, next to the window, was the older 
boy, Laurence, tall, thin, blonde, Ned over 
again at fifteen, and already possessed, as his 
uncle had discovered, of his father’s poise and 
charm of manner. 

‘‘Personalities every one of them,” re- 
flected Dr. Phil. “Not a nonentity in the 
bunch. I’ll warrant the livening process. 
I’m glad Ned put them in my hands instead of 
Mother’s. Penny for your thoughts, An- 
toinetta,” he added aloud. 

Antoinette flashed one of her quick, glow- 
ing smiles at him. 

“They are not worth buying,” she said. 
“Just a jumble. That is a pretty name you 
called me. Where did you get it ? ” 


THE HOLIDAYS 


19 


Just came to me. What is it your father 
calls you I TonyT^ 

‘^Tony. Everybody calls me that. We — 
none of us — use our Sunday best names. We 
are Tony and Larry and Ted. ’ ’ 

“Tony and Larry and Ted 
Came out of the West, it is said, 

Like young Lochinvar, 

And I reckon they are 

Quite as likely to raise the old Ned,” 

he improvised solemnly. 

Ted turned from the window with lively in- 
terest and Tony giggled appreciatively. 

‘‘Why, that is just like Daddy she cried 
happily. “He is always making up funny 
rhymes about us. He calls us ‘lazy Larry ^ 
and ‘touchy Tony^ and ‘terrible Ted.’ ” 

“Enlightening adjectives,” smiled her 
uncle. “I’ll make a note of them for future 
reference since you are going to he my guard- 
ees.” 

Ted shot his uncle a quick appraising 
glance, which suggested that he was surmis- 
ing how his “terribleness” was likely to 
fare. 


20 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Daddy says we are a dreadful lot/^ fur- 
ther confided Tony. “He is afraid we will 
shock Granny fearfully. Do you think we 
shall T’ a little anxiously. 

“I never count my shocks until they are 
generated,’^ her uncle temporized. “That 
remains to be seen.’’ 

“Tell us about everything,” ordered Ted 
expansively. 

“Hm-m! Where shall I begin? We live 
on Holiday Hill, named after us, as you will 
perceive. We look down on the rest of the 
world. ’ ’ 

“How toploftical ! ” reproved Tony, begin- 
ning to enjoy herself hugely with this jolly 
young uncle who talked such delightful sense 
and nonsense all mixed up like Alice in Won- 
derland. 

“Isn’t it? And when you feel our breeze 
blowing up from our lake you will think Holi- 
day Hill is the greatest place in the world to 
live.^’ 

“Is there a lake?” eagerly from Ted, and 
even the silent Laurence turned to listen with 
evident interest. 


THE HOLIDAYS 


21 


‘^Certainly. Holiday Lake, at your serv- 
ice. We have all the modern conveniences at 
Dunbury. ’ ’ 

And are you and Grrandfather and Granny 
all the people who live on the HillT’ interro- 
gated Tony further. 

^‘Oh, no, we aren’t quite so exclusive as 
that. The Lamberts and the Jewetts, live 
there, too. The Lamberts have a big family 
and the Jewetts have a big farm. You will 
enjoy both.” 

^‘Tell us about the Lamberts,” eagerly 
from Tony. 

<< There are five of them besides Mr. and 
Mrs. Lambert. Mr. Lambert owns the big- 
gest store in the village and Mrs. Lambert 
owns the biggest heart. They both neighbor 
the whole town. Then, there is Jean who is 
sixteen or so and the best little housekeeper 
you ever clapped eyes on. Next in order 
comes my namesake, Philip, who is fourteen. 
You will all like him. He is quite a special 
chum of mine. Then there are the twins, 
Charley and Clare — about your age, Ted. 
Charley is a girl, by the way, though you 


22 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


might not guess it from her name. They are 
as alike as two peas except that one has one 
dimple and toTher has two.’’ 

‘‘Which is which?” 

He made a disclaiming gesture. 

‘ ‘ My dear Tony. Ask me something easier. 
You will have to assort the dimples for your- 
self. Lastly there is Eleanor, a bewitching 
little fairy whom the others spoil royally be- 
tween them.” 

“It sounds awfully pleasant,” sighed Tony. 
“I’ve never had any girls to play with. And 
Daddy says we ’ll love the house. ’ ’ 

“You ought to. It has been the home of a 
Holiday for two hundred years and more. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I like that.” And suddenly Tony 
felt, for the first time, the flare of ancestral 
pride in her heart ; felt, too, that at last she 
was going to belong somewhere. 

“So do I,” echoed her uncle heartily. 
“Those old Holidays were a fine lot. Not so 
easy to live up to to-day, eh, Larry?” 

Laurence turned and his grave gray eyes 
met his uncle ’s. 

“I’ve always found it quite hard to live up 


THE HOLIDAYS 


23 


to my father. I never thought much about 
the rest of them.’’ 

understand that. I have often felt that 
way about your grandfather.” 

‘‘Daddy thinks he is the finest man in the 
world, ’ ’ said Tony quickly with shining eyes. 
“Oh, I do wish we would hurry up and get 
there. I can ’t wait. ’ ’ 

At last they did get there, and the three 
children were lined up for a more rigorous 
and critical inspection than they had received 
from kind Uncle Phil. This first interview 
with their grandmother was something of an 
ordeal all round. Tony, especially, who cher- 
ished a passionate fondness for loving and be- 
ing loved, eager to throw herself into the arms 
and the atfection of her grandmother, was 
chilled and repulsed by the perfunctory 
“pecky” kiss she received and the rather icy 
scrutiny to which she was subjected. She 
could not know how vividly her resemblance 
to her mother called back unfortunate and bit- 
ter old memories, nor could Mrs. Holiday pos- 
sibly suspect how poignant was the disap- 
pointment she herself aroused. Tony’s ideas 


24 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


of grandmothers were of gentle, gracious, 
gray-haired beings such as flourished in 
story-books and who had nothing in common 
with this painfully erect, awesomely hand- 
some, black-haired personage who was some- 
how masquerading under the title. 

‘^She isn’t a bit grandmothery, ” sighed the 
little girl to herself, dejectedly. ‘^I’ll never, 
never be able to stand being bored through 
and through with those dreadful black eyes. ’ ’ 

The boys, having expected and imagined 
less, came out better. Larry, being so exact 
a counterpart of his bonny father, could 
hardly help winning his way straight into his 
grandmother’s heart, though her habitual re- 
serve forbade her betraying the emotion she 
really felt. And Ted, being like nobody but 
his happy-go-lucky, fearless self, occupied 
neutral ground. 

But Tony had her full share of satisfaction 
in her grandfather’s greeting. He was sin- 
cerely glad to see Ned’s boys, but the little 
girl he drew into his arms with a fervor of 
affection which brought the tears to her eyes. 
Here, too, the past was busy. For there had 


THE HOLIDAYS 


25 


been a little girl of his own, years ago, who 
had been lent for too brief a space and for 
whom the old man’s heart was §^11 very 
tender. Tony was little Hester over again to 
him, and donbly welcome for that reason. 


CHAPTER m 


GETTING ADJUSTED 

Children adapt themselves with wonderful 
facility to a change of environment, and it was 
a surprisingly short time before the young 
Holidays were practically at home in their 
new surroundings. They lost no time in get- 
ting acquainted with Holiday Lake, the Jew- 
etts’ large farm, and the Lamberts’ large 
family, and found all three much to their lik- 
ing as their uncle had prophesied. Phil and 
the twins were speedily their bosom compan- 
ions, and few indeed were the days when the 
whole group did not foregather somewhere on 
the Lambert premises, on the big hospitable 
porch, on the tennis court or yard, or in the 
shabby living-room. Less often they as- 
sembled at the Holiday house. Its mistress 
was a bit too austere and eagle-eyed to be ex- 
actly conducive to joy unconfined, and her 
presence was apt to be felt as a restraint. 

26 


GETTING ADJUSTED 


27 


<< There fun everywhere, ’cepting at 
home,’^ was Ted’s verdict. 

And though it was Ted who was oftenest in 
open disgrace with his grandmother on ac- 
count of his thoroughly irrepressible, slangy 
heedlessness, Tony and Mrs. Holiday didn’t 
exactly ‘‘hit it off” either, and much of the 
time what Larry called “a state of armed 
truce” existed between the two. 

“I honestly try to love her,” Tony con- 
fessed once to her uncle in a moment of confi- 
dence. “But she just holds me off at arms’ 
length, and I feel as if she were disapproving 
of me every blessed minute no matter what 
I do or don’t do. And I simply can’t stand 
being disapproved of. It just wilts me. ’ ’ 

Dr. Phil smiled at the lugubrious plaint and 
made light of the grievance, but in his heart 
he wished his mother would meet the child’s 
advances more nearly half way and forget 
after all these years that she was her moth- 
er’s daughter. It was not that she was un- 
kind. She was scrupulously kind, even for- 
bearing, but there was a conscious reserva- 
tion in her attitude and Tony sensed the 


28 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


lack of warmth and rebelled against it, 
for love was an essential of her eager, 
affectionate, young spirit. Larry went his 
quiet way, faring the best of the three, 
partly because of his likeness to his 
father and partly because he was, by nature, 
less riotous than the others. On the whole, 
the adjustment went on on both sides rather 
better perhaps than might have been ex- 
pected, and Colonel Holiday hearing only fa- 
vorable reports, if somewhat guarded ones, 
felt satisfied that he had done quite the best 
thing in sending the children home. He sus- 
pected that a certain amount of repression 
might not be a bad thing for the younger chil- 
dren, at least, and knew that under his 
brother Philip’s eye things could not go very 
badly. 

Trained in all kinds of outdoor sports and 
having practically lived outdoors all their 
lives, the children found that the lake offered 
new possibilities of enjoyment and achieve- 
ment. They already knew how to swim more 
or less, but canoeing and rowing were unex- 
plored delights. 


GETTING ADJUSTED 


29 


‘‘PhiPs going to teach me,’’ announced 
Ted, one morning at breakfast. ‘‘He can 
row like a son of a — ” 

“Edward,” warned his grandmother, with 
uplifted brows. 

“Yes’m.” Ted looked up innocently. “I 
was going to say, like the son of a sea captain, 
when you interrupted. ’ ’ 

Tony almost giggled but took a swallow of 
water instead. 

“I want to learn too. I can, can’t I, Uncle 
Phil? ” she asked eagerly. 

“Of course you can. Every girl ought to 
know how to swim and row and all the rest 
of the outdoor things she can manage. I’ll 
give you a lesson as soon as possible.” 

“This morning?” 

He laughed. 

“No procrastination about you, young lady. 
So be it. Bowing lesson number one at ten 
o’clock sharp. See that you are on hand.” 

“Antoinette cannot go this morning, 
Philip,” Mrs. Holiday intervened as she 
folded her napkin with her usual precision. 
“I have a task for her.” 


30 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Tonyas eyes flashed and her red lips drew 
into an ominous pucker. To tell the truth, 
she was not much used to having her im- 
perious will crossed and did not at all enjoy 
the process. Just this minute it seemed the 
one desirable thing in all the world was to 
have Uncle Phil give her a rowing lesson at 
ten o’clock. She looked* to him for assistance 
but he basely deserted. 

“Oh, all right,” he acquiesced. “ To-mor- 
row then, at the same hour. ’ ’ 

He smiled at Tony, and somehow the smile 
made the pout unpout itself, though she 
couldn’t quite smile back. 

“I believe she did that just to be mean,” 
she thought resentfully. “Wonder what the 
task is. Something horrid, no doubt.” 
And she set her lips rather mutinously. 

She was soon enlightened as to the nature 
of the task. Her grandmother summoned her 
and led the way to Tony’s own bedroom. 
Such a pretty room it was, too! Tony had 
loved it from the first moment she had stepped 
foot in it. It was all apple-blossom chintz 
and dainty white furniture with pale gray 


GETTING ADJUSTED 


31 


and rose rugs and gray wall paper with an 
apple blossom border. A perfectly charm- 
ing room, but — ! Mrs. Holiday went 
straight to the white chitfonier and threw 
open the top drawer, disclosing, alas, a 
heterogeneous jumble of ribbons and ties and 
gloves and handkerchiefs, all in disconcerting 
disorder. 

‘‘There!’’ she announced. 

Tony hung her head. She had no idea how 
really shocking her untidiness was to her fas- 
tidious grandmother, but she did perceive the 
incongruity between the unsightly drawer and 
the dainty room. The other drawers like- 
wise sutfered similar disillusioning inspection 
and the closet door was made to reveal its 
skeleton also. But that was not the end. 

“There are holes in nearly all your stock- 
ings,” went on the inexorable voice. “What 
did you expect to put on when you needed 
clean ones?” 

“Why — I don’t know,” confessed Tony 
blankly. “Anne always mended them or I 
had new ones. I don’t know how to darn 
them myself.” 


32 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


^ ‘ Antoinette Holiday ! How old are you ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Fourteen/^ meekly. 

‘^And you cannot even darn your own 
stockings. It is — incredible!’’ And Mrs. 
Holiday looked as if she had discovered her 
granddaughter guilty of all the seven deadly 
sins simultaneously. 

‘‘But nobody ever showed me how,” pro- 
tested Tony, flushed cheeked and slightly de- 
fiant. “Daddy always said he would rather 
I should be out of doors than fussing over 
things like that.” 

Her grandmother dismissed the argument 
with a wave of her hand. 

“My child, your father is only a man. He 
has evidently let you grow up about as help- 
less and useless as is humanly possible.” 

Tony bit her lip and her eyes filled. She 
couldn’t bear to hear her beloved “Daddy” 
blamed. She swallowed hard to keep from 
saying any of the angry, rebellious words 
which crowded up dangerously near the sur- 
face. Possibly her grandmother mistook her 
silence for submission. At any rate, she con- 
tinued more kindly. 


GETTING ADJUSTED 


33 


‘‘But we shall change all that at once. You 
shall learn to darn and sew and cook and do 
all the things a gentlewoman should be ex- 
pert in.^^ 

By almost superhuman effort Tony fore- 
bore to scream aloud that she didn’t want to 
be an expert gentlewoman and that she would 
far rather learn to row and paddle a canoe. 

“But it’s vacation,” she faltered in substi- 
tution. 

“I should judge you had had fourteen years 
of vacation,” said Mrs. Holiday dryly. “A 
change may be beneficial. Now, I am going 
to leave you to set your room in order, and 
when you have finished come downstairs with 
your stockings and sewing materials and I 
will teach you how to darn.” 

Whereupon she retired with dignity, and 
Tony, waiting only until the door closed, 
threw herself upon her bed and indulged in a 
tempest of angry tears. 

“I just hate her — ^hate her — hate her,” she 
sobbed. “And I don’t want to learn to darn 
my darned old stockings — so there ! Oh, 
Daddy — Daddy ! ’ ’ 


34 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


But half an hour later it was a subdued and 
apparently docile Tony who presented herself 
to her grandmother for the promised in- 
struction. And if the latter noticed that the 
child’s eyes were red and her cheeks hot, she 
was far from realizing that these were battle 
signs and that a creditable victory had been 
won. 

And thus began the rather strenuous proc- 
ess of turning Tony into a ‘‘gentlewomian” 
while her brothers, with the freedom of their 
sex, disported themselves unhampered on the 
lake. 


CHAPTER IV 


‘‘of many things’^ 

Aftee a strenuous morning on the lake, 
practicing the gentle art of rowing under 
PhiPs tutelage, both pupils and instructor 
were enjoying a breathing space, letting the 
boat drift idly along shore under the shade of 
the overhanging shrubbery. 

“Whew! But it^s hot,^’ groaned Ted, 
mopping his forehead. 

Phil laughed. 

“You go at it in such hammer and tongs 
fashion. Larry gets along better because he 
is more deliberate. You spend all your en- 
ergy catching crabs. ’ ^ 

“H-mp!^^ grunted Ted, not very well 
pleased. He was used to getting ahead of his 
quieter brother in out of door sports and did 
not particularly relish being the inferior. “I 
donT care. I’ll learn yet. See if I don’t. 
I always do things I set my mind on doing.” 

35 


86 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Wish I did/’ And Phil leaned out of the 
boat to break off a branch of black birch which 
he proceeded to chew meditatively. 

“What, specially, would you like to do!” 
inquired Ted, recovering his good humor as 
he cooled off. 

“Several things. One of ’em is to go out 
with the crowd the night before the Fourth.” 

“What do they do!’^ asked Larry. 

‘ ‘ Oh, cut up all kinds of ructions — steal peo- 
ple ’s fences, ring bells, mix up everybody’s 
property generally. It ’s loads of fun. ’ ’ 

“Let’s go,” said Ted with enthusiasm. 
“Sounds good to me.’^ 

Phil grinned a little. 

“Your grandmother might have a thing or 
two to say about that.” 

“I guess if you can go she ought not to 
mind our going. ’ ’ 

“But I can’t. That is — not with permis- 
sion.” Phil threw away the stripped bit of 
birch and fell to examining the rowlock criti- 
cally. 

“Oh.” Ted began to see. 

“Dad’s awfully down on that sort of 


‘'OF MANY THINGS’ 


37 


thing/’ went on Phil. “He’s town constable 
among other things and I gness he wouldn’t 
like to catch me in the racket. Anyway, I’m 
mighty certain I wouldn’t care to be caught.’’ 

“Gee! I’d like to go! Wouldn’t you, 
Larry?” If there was a spice of the illicit 
about the project the fact made it gain rather 
than lose in attractiveness in Ted’s eyes. 

“Don’t know,” said Larry dubiously. 
“Maybe Uncle Phil wouldn’t like it any better 
than Mr. Lambert does, and we aren’t very 
likely to have a chance to get in on it.” 

“What people don’t know doesn’t hurt ’em. 
Eight, Phil?” 

Phil nodded soberly. Nothing more was 
said, but all three knew that a tacit dare had 
been thrown down and that two at least of the 
three were likely to take it. Suddenly Phil 
glanced at the sun and reached for the oars 
with an exclamation: 

“Let me,” urged Ted. 

“Got to get there quick. Father told me 
to hoe the vegetable garden this morning and 
I haven’t done a lick.” 

Under Phil’s swift even strokes the boat 


38 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


shot through the water and was speedily at 
the landing. He had no mind to lose any time 
on the way for he knew he couldn’t plead his 

forge ttery” this time. His forethought 
was a bit tardy, however, for as he fastened 
the boat the noon whistles blew. There was 
no chance to get in any gardening before din- 
ner and he only hoped his father would not 
notice his sins of omission and counted, in 
that case, on getting the work done before 
supper time. 

‘ ‘ The garden looks fine, Phil. I don ’t know 
when it has been so thoroughly done,” ob- 
served Mrs. Lambert, during the course of the 
meal. 

Phil laid do^\m his fork and stared blankly 
at the speaker. Sarcasm was not one of his 
mother’s usual weapons. To his amazement, 
she met his rather sheepish gaze with a beam 
of genuine approval. At the same time, 
Charley, sitting next to him, stepped signifi- 
cantly on his foot, and stooping in pretense of 
capturing her napkin whispered, ^‘Keep still. 
We did it.” And, wondering still more, he 
subsided. 


"OF MANY THINGS” 


39 


After dinner lie pursued the twins to the 
kitchen for enlightenment. 

“We did it for fun,’’ giggled Clare. 

“Your face was a study,” gurgled 
Charley. 

“Well, upon my word, you two are the big- 
gest pair of ninnies!” expostulated Phil. 
“Nice fix you’ve put me in.” 

“Ungrateful!” reproached Clare mock- 
ingly. ‘‘See what kind, loving, little sisters 
you have.” 

“Eats!” 

“You are so appreciative, I am sure you 
are dying to wipe the dishes for us.” And 
Charley’s eyes betrayed her malicious delight 
in getting her brother so securely in a trap. 
“Remember, ‘the garden never looked so 
thoroughly done.’ ” 

“If we hadn’t done your work you would 
have received a tall lecture,” put in Clare for 
good measure. 

“Don’t know but I’d about as soon get a 
lecture as feel like a fool,” gloomily. “See 
here. I’ll wipe your old dishes, but you 
needn’t think you bribed me into it. I don’t 


40 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


care if you do tell. I’ve half a mind to tell, 
myself. ’ ’ 

Charley dropped a handful of silver into 
the pan with a vigor which sent the soapy 
water splashing in all directions like a new 
kind of fountain. 

‘^Phil Lambert, we never tell tales, and you 
know it ! ” she protested indignantly. 

‘^Phil, do get out of the kitchen. The twins 
never get anything done when you are 
round. ’ ’ This from Jean standing in the din- 
ing-room doorway. 

‘^He is going to wipe our dishes. Don’t 
discourage him,” explained Clare. 

‘ ^ He is ! ” incredulously. ‘‘I’d like to know 
what mischief you three are up to. You look 
too innocent altogether.” 

“Nothing but a spasm of brotherly love 
on Phil’s part. He has ’em occasionally,” 
replied Charley. “Here’s a towel, dear- 
est.” 

Phil shrugged but accepted the towel 
Charley held out to him. Jean shook her 
head dubiously, and, beating a retreat, met 
her mother coming to find her. 


"OF MANY THINGS” 


41 


^‘Jeanie, do you mind going over to Mrs. 
Jewett ^s with the pattern I borrowed 

Jean brightened perceptibly. Indeed she 
did not mind. She had been wishing for a 
week for some pretext to take her into the 
charmed circle of the artistes presence. 

‘^All right, Mother. I’ll run up and make 
myself presentable and go right away.” 

Ten minutes later she stood before her 
mirror, neat and trim, in a fresh blue linen 
dress. But the little familiar pucker was 
back on her forehead. 

‘^Oh, dear,” she thought disconsolately, ‘4f 
only I were the least little bit pretty. The 
twins don’t care a bit about their good looks, 
and Tony Holiday is a beauty, and I don’t be- 
lieve she even knows it. And I’d rather be 
pretty than ’most anything in the world and 
I’m as plain as — as mud,” she finished dis- 
dainfully. 

Presently she crossed the strip of wide 
green which separated the Lambert property 
from the Jewetts’, and walked in at the side 
door, in true neighbor fashion, without knock- 
ing. Mrs. Jewett was invisible, either in the 


42 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


big, spotless kitchen or in the little sitting- 
room beyond. Accordingly, Jean kept on to 
the front porch where she discovered, not the 
buxom and garrulous Mrs. Jewett, but a slim 
young woman in white, with the loveliest 
gold brown hair and delicately pink and white 
coloring like apple blossoms. Jean was shy, 
and, though she desired exceedingly to make 
the acquaintance of this entrancing per- 
sonage, was on the point of retreating 
softly when the entrancing personage looked 
up and meeting Jean^s gaze smiled pleas- 
antly. 

‘ ‘ Oh, how do you do ! ’ ’ And Jean thought 
she had never heard so musical a voice. It 
fairly transformed the commonplace words. 
‘‘Did you want Mrs. Jewett? She has gone 
to her sister ^s for the afternoon. I am keep- 
ing house. Won^t you stay and ‘visit’ with 
me? I am Marjorie Ericson. And you, I 
think, are one of my neighbors. ’ ’ 

“I am Jean Lambert.” The neighbor 
managed to introduce herself. 

“Oh, yes, I know that. I assure you I 
know all about the Hill people. I have 


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JEAN THOUGHT 


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"OF MANY THINGS” 


43 


pumped Mrs. Jewett high and dry on the sub- 
ject. Do sit down. I was just wishing I had 
some one to talk to. ’ ’ 

Jean sat down and somehow found her 
habitual awkward shyness mysteriously dis- 
appearing. It was a surprisingly short time 
before she was chatting as freely as Miss 
Ericson herself, considerably more freely in- 
deed than she had ever talked to any one in all 
her life, for Jean was a reserved and over 
self-conscious person who ordinarily found it 
very hard to express her thoughts and feel- 
ings even to her nearest and dearest. But 
this gracious stranger discovered the magic 
key to the secret garden and, before she knew 
it, Jean was pouring out her dreams and 
hopes and ambitions to a sympathetic listener. 
In turn. Miss Ericson described her own 
trials and joys as an incipient artist, and, al- 
together, the two managed to become very 
friendly indeed. Presently the clock in the 
village struck four and Jean sprang up with 
a dismayed exclamation. 

“Why, IVe stayed the whole afternoon!’’ 
she cried. ‘‘I don’t think I ever talked so 


44 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


much all my life at a stretch/’ she added with 
a shy little laugh. 

Miss Ericson smiled back. 

‘‘I have enjoyed it. I have a friend who 
tells me I would rather talk than eat. It is a 
sort of feast in itself when I get somebody 
congenial. You must come often to see me 
and bring the others. You know I am sup- 
posed to be taking a rest this summer and my 
fingers itch so to be at work I have to exercise 
my tongue instead.” 

And then good Mrs. Jewett bustled on the 
scene, full of voluble inquiries as to how her 
guest had ‘^got erlong” and interspersed bits 
of gossip about Sister ‘^Marthy” and the five 
children. Jean seized the first lull in the 
monologue to effect her departure. Mrs. 
Jewett bored her horribly at times anyway, 
and to-day, after the wonderful talk with 
Miss Ericson, the eddy of platitudes was all 
but unendurable. 

^‘Jean’s a good girl,” commented Mrs. 
Jewett when she was out of hearing. She’s 
her mother’s right-hand man about the house. 
Ain’t a thing she can’t do. But she’s a queer 


MANY THINGS'' 


45 


piece, not a mite talkative and friendly like 
the others, sort of standoffish like. She can 
draw right smart. You'd orter see her pic- 
tures." 

‘‘She has promised to show them to me." 

Mrs. Jewett opened her eyes wide. 

“Bless my soul!" she ejaculated. “You 
must have made friends mighty quick. She's 
usually shy enough about showing her stuff. 
Likely your being an artist makes a differ- 
ence. ' ' 

Jean went about her supper preparations 
that night as one in a trance. There were no 
discords and clashes to-night. Happiness is 
a wonderful peace-keeper. As soon as the 
work was done she crept off to her own room 
to dream her dreams alone. Miss Ericson 
had promised to help her with her drawing 
but somehow that was the least of her joy. 
The proffered friendship, the ready under- 
standing and sympathy meant even more to 
her. With Miss Ericson at hand, she felt 
sure everything was going to be different. 
The breaking through of the crust of her re- 
serve was an epoch in the girl's life. 


46 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Mums, we are going over to see Tony. 
PhiPs got a headache and a grouch and won’t 
play tennis.” Thus Charley announced her 
departure. 

“All right, dear. Be home by half-past 
eight.” And Mrs. Lambert went to hunt 
Phil and see if she could do anything for the 
head. She found him curled up on the couch 
in the living-room, a little grumpy and suf- 
fering. To tell the truth, the garden affair 
still made him a bit uncomfortable, for he 
was an honest lad and not used to sailing 
under false colors. He submitted to his 
mother ’s ministrations with scant grace. His 
head felt better under the touch of her cool 
firm fingers but his conscience didn’t. 

“I am afraid you were out in the hot sun 
too long with the garden and rowing, too.” 

That was a little too much. Phil sat up 
abruptly. 

“I didn’t weed the garden at all. The 
twins did it.” 

“And you let me think you did? Why, 
Phil!” 

“I didn’t mean to. I was going to tell and 


«0F MANY THINGS” 


47 


Charley stopped me, and afterwards it 
seemed silly to make a fuss about it/’ 

“Does your telling me seem silly?” 
“No-o. I guess I feel better, now it’s out 
of my system.” He smiled at his mother a 
little ruefully. 

“So I suspect. I thought there was some- 
thing the matter, though I didn’t know what. ’ ’ 
“You did?” he grunted. “You have awful 
seeing eyes, Mumsie. Honest, I’m going to 
turn over a new leaf, only my leaves never 
stay turned. I’m an awful shirk about work, 
and maybe — about some other things,” he 
added shamefacedly. 


CHAPTER V 


^‘fair and warmer’’ 

‘‘Who wants to go driving with me? I 
have to go over to Ridgeville,” inquired Dr. 
Phil at dinner the next day. 

“Me,” said Ted. 

“I,” said Tony. 

He laughed. 

“I’ll take the most grammatical.” 

“That’s me,” boasted Tony. 

“Sh-sh! You’ve spoiled it. I think you 
are elected, however. Ted went last time, 
didn’t you?” 

“Guess so. I don’t care anyway. I’m 
helping Phil build a rabbit house. Say, but 
this is a corking place! Something to do 
every minute. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Edward, I do wish you would learn to use 
the English language,” admonished his 
grandmother. 

“I will if you will stop calling me Ed- 

48 


“FAIR AND WARMER” 


49 


ward,’^ was the rather astounding and very 
prompt rejoinder. Tony gasped a little, 
wondering what would happen. Ted didn’t 
mean to be impertinent, she knew, but it 
sounded dangerously near it. Mrs. Holiday 
was one of the persons of whom most people 
stood in awe or else couldn’t endure. Chil- 
dren, she frequently cowed or drove to 
mutiny. Upon Ted she had neither of the 
two effects. He wasn’t in the least afraid of 
her nor did he resent her domination as Tony 
did. He gazed at her now in perfect assur- 
ance that she would take his proposition in 
good part, and somewhat to the surprise of 
the rest she did. 

‘<Yery well,” she agreed after a moment’s 
rather weighty pause. ^‘See that you keep 
your side of the bargain.” 

‘^Of course we’ll both of us forget some- 
times,” said her grandson comfortably. 
”But we’ll have a stab at it anyway.” 

And even Mrs. Holiday smiled faintly while 
the rest shouted with mirth. 

Later Tony snuggled contentedly down on 
the seat beside her uncle behind Gypsy’s fly- 


50 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


ing hoofs. Dr. Phil loved horses and still in- 
sisted on keeping them instead of an auto- 
mobile. And Tony, who loved them too, 
didn’t at all wonder at his whim, and felt the 
exhilaration of Gypsy’s swift pace, for the 
doctor’s horses were ‘Gong on speed,” as the 
neighbors said. 

“Granny tells me you are taking a course 
in domestic arts,” said Dr. Phil presently, 
glancing down at his niece with a twinkle in 
his eyes. ‘ ‘ How do you like it ? ” 

“Uncle Phil, may I say exactly, precisely, 
what I want to?” 

“Fire ahead.” 

“Well, then, I loathe, detest and abominate 
your old domestic arts ! ’ ’ 

“Eighty! Tighty! They aren’t my 
domestic arts. They are yours and 
Granny’s,” he teased. 

“Don’t laugh. Uncle Phil. ’Tisn’t funny 
to me. I simply hate it. It just makes me 
boil all over, ’ ’ vehemently and with a toss of 
her head and a flash of her dark eyes. 

He sobered at that. 

“Did you tell Granny that?” he asked. 


“FAIR AND WARMER” 


51 


^^No, I didn’t. I just hung on to my 
temper like grim death though, not to let go. 
I just thought of Daddy as hard and fast as I 
could or I’d surely have exploded. Truly, 
Uncle Phil, I don’t think she had any right to 
go poking round in my chiffonier drawers to 
see what they looked like. ’ ’ 

‘‘Gently, Antoinetta. Look before you 
leap.” 

“Well,” she admitted with a flush, “maybe 
I oughtn’t to have said that. Maybe she has 
a sort of right because it ’s her chiffonier. ’ ’ 
“Better right than that, lassie. She’s 
your own Granny and she wants to help you 
grow into the reflned, educated woman we all 
hope you are going to be. ’ ’ 

“Uncle Phil!” reproachfully, “I thought 
you would be on my side.” And there was 
a stormy little emphasis on the “you.” 
“Even you don’t understand,” she moaned. 

“Oh, yes, little girl, I understand perfectly. 
You don’t suppose I have lived with Granny 
all these years without understanding, do 
you? I understand that you and she have a 
whole lot of adjusting to do before either one 


52 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


of you is ready to admit the other good 
qualities. It isn’t going to be always an easy 
performance for either of you. But you are 
both going ‘to make a stab at it,’ as Ted says. 
How about it, Antoinetta? You aren’t going 
to be a rebel, are you?” 

“No-o,” sighed Tony. “I’ll try not to be 
one. Uncle Phil, but I do just hate house 
things. I’d much rather be out doors.” 

“We are not going to curtail the out doors 
by any means. I hope I’m too good a doctor 
to permit that. But these summer days are 
long. Isn’t there going to be time for both? 
If you could learn to keep your father ’s house 
in order — cook his meals and all the rest of it 
— wouldn’t it be worth some temporary sacri- 
fice?” 

It was the right note and Tony’s eyes shone 
response. 

“Oh, yes,” she cried eagerly. “I’d love 
that. I’d be so glad and proud.” 

“Of course you would, and so would he. 
Doesn’t that put a new face on the matter, 
young lady?” 

“Yes, it does. If Granny had talked to me 


'TAIR AND WARMER” 


53 


like that I wouldn^t have been a rebel/ ^ truth- 
fully. 

He smiled. 

There are all kinds of domestic arts, 
Tony, and the greatest of them is under- 
standing what the people you see every day 
are really like underneath and learning to 
judge them by the inside instead of the out, 
just as you would a — butternut, for in- 
stance. ^ ’ A tall tree by the roadside supplied 
him his comparison. 

Tony giggled at that. She thought her 
grandmother was a good deal like a butter- 
nut. Then she grew sober as she remem- 
bered that the application was just as appro- 
priate to herself. 

We Ve both got very hard shells,’’ she ad- 
mitted out loud, ‘‘but maybe we’re sound in- 
side.” 

“Not a doubt of it,” said Dr. Phil heartily. 
“Just you go in for the domestic arts busi- 
ness — all kinds — in the same spirit you went 
at your rowing lesson, this morning, and I 
prophesy miracles will happen before the end 
of the summer.” 


54 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


So it happened the next morning when her 
grandmother summoned Tony to a lesson in 
cookery she was greeted by a perfectly cheer- 
ful ‘‘All right, Granny,’’ and heard never a 
word of the fact that she had disturbed plans 
for a rowing trip down the lake with the boys. 
And, to her surprise, Tony discovered that 
cooking was a mysteriously fascinating pur- 
suit, not a bit the drudgery she had supposed 
it. She thoroughly enjoyed beating the 
frothy whites of the eggs until they looked 
like sea foam, and thought the rich, yellow 
batter in the blue bowl ‘ ‘ simply luscious, ’ ’ as 
she informed her grandmother enthusiasti- 
cally. She could hardly wait for the cake to 
emerge from the oven, and possibly could not 
have survived the suspense if she had not in 
the meantime been initiated into the solemn 
rites of mayonnaise. Her delight was un- 
bounded when she was permitted to supply 
the oil, drop by drop, with artistic moder- 
ation. 

“Why, Granny, I think it’s just loads of 
fun,” she burst out. “I’d rather cook than 
do anything I know. ’ ’ 


"FAIR AND WARMER” 


55 


‘‘There is more to cooking than cake and 
salad dressing/’ her grandmother informed 
her, but in her heart Mrs. Holiday was 
scarcely less anxious than Tony that the cake 
should be a success. And when it finally 
came out of the oven and out of the pan, 
golden brown, even, perfect in every respect, 
she was not ill pleased at Tony’s shout of 
glee and the spontaneous kiss which fell on 
her cheek in celebration of the great moment. 

Next came the frosting, that most critical 
of operations. And though Tony was scared 
by her grandmother’s warnings of the ex- 
ceeding difficulty of getting it “just right,” 
she managed to turn out a very creditable 
confection which, under rigid supervision, 
she transferred to its destined resting-place 
on the “perfect cake.” 

“You have a cook’s hand, child, light and 
firm,” Mrs. Holiday condescended to accord 
as she set the cake in the pantry to cool. 

And considering that this was the first bit 
of praise she had won from her grandmother 
in two weeks, Tony’s heart was light as a 
feather as she danced off to her own room to 


56 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


write ‘ ‘ Daddy her weekly letter and tell 
him she had made a ‘‘really truly cake’’ all 
by herself. 

“My, but I’m glad now I can report ‘fair 
and warmer,’ ” she chuckled. “Oh dear, 
what if I had let my temper go yesterday! 
Wouldn’t it have been just awful? I should 
have had to tell Daddy, I suppose, and I’d 
have been so ashamed. And now I can tell 
him about the cake instead, which will make 
more palatial — no — I mean palatable reading. 
Bless lUncle Phil ! I’ll give him a good word, 
too.” 

And Antoinette’s pen fairly flew over the 
paper. There were always a thousand 
things to say to “Daddy.” 


CHAPTER VI 


BEFORE THE FOURTH 

In the meantime, the hoys, having finished 
their rowing lesson under PhiPs tutelage, 
were drifting along lazily, keeping close to 
the shore to enjoy the cool shadows. 

say, are you fellows coming out to- 
night asked Phil. 

‘‘Are youT’ challenged Ted. 

Phil stooped and let the water ripple 
through his fingers. 

“Yes,’^ he answered after a moment’s 
pause. 

“Then we are in it, too. Aren’t we, 
Larry I” 

“I’m not,” said Larry coolly. 

“Shucks! Don’t be a Miss Nancy.” 

“Don’t know the lady, but I do know we’d 
be precious idiots to get into a scrape now, 
when we promised Dad we’d behave our- 
selves.” 


57 


58 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Who^s not behaving? Uncle Phil hasn^t 
said we couldn^t go/’ 

^‘Have you asked him?” 

‘‘Well, no. We don’t have to ask him 
every time we turn around, do we? He 
doesn’t expect us to be sissies any more than 
Dad does.” 

Larry said nothing. Having said his say 
he never argued. 

“It isn’t anything but a lark, is it, 
Phil?” 

“No,” said Phil abstractedly, bent on try- 
ing to pacify his own conscience. There was 
no doubt in his mind as to what his father 
would call the lark. “Eowdyism” was the 
word, and rowdyism happened to be one of 
Stuart Lambert’s pet aversions. 

“You don ’t dare, ’’Ted taunted Larry. ‘ ‘ I 
wouldn’t be such a fraidy cat!” 

Laurence ’s face went white. 

“Ted Holiday, you take that back!’^ 
Larry’s voice was very quiet — ominously 
quiet. Every word shot out like a barbed 
dart. 

“Let’s see you make me,” jeered Ted from 


BEFORE THE FOURTH 


59 


the safe vantage ground of the other end of 
the boat. 

‘‘I will when we get to land.’’ 

It occurred to Phil that he wouldn’t care 
to be up against Larry Holiday angry and he 
didn’t envy Ted that grim promise. 

‘‘Why wait?” blandly from the irrepres- 
sible Ted. 

“Because I promised Uncle Phil to be care- 
ful in the boat.” 

“Don’t be such pepper pots,” advised Phil. 
“Bow in, Larry, if you are going to, or let 
me. It ’s ’most dinner-time. ’ ’ 

Larry resigned the oars in silence and the 
journey was quickly accomplished. As they 
reached shore Ted made a dash for safety but 
Larry’s long legs were too much for him, and 
he had not advanced a rod before his brother 
was upon him. In a twinkling the younger 
lad was down in the dust sprawling and kick- 
ing but pinned to earth by a relentless 
grip. 

“Some jiu jitsu!” thought Phil, watching 
with considerable admiration. 

“Take it back!” ordered Larry. 


60 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘W-won’t/’ gasped Ted, breathless but 
game. 

“Take it back!’’ repeated Larry and the 
vise-like grip pressed heavier. 

“Right. I take it back. Don’t smash a 
fellow to bits. Ouch ! ’ ’ rubbing his arms rue- 
fully as he sat up. “I was only fooling any- 
way. You needn’t have gotten so mad. Why 
didn’t you help, PhiD” 

Phil laughed. 

“Guess I thought you were getting what 
was coming to you. Three’s a crowd in a 
scrap anyway. Jerusalem, Larry! I’ll take 
pains to keep out of your way if you don’t 
happen to like the style of my conversation. ’ ’ 

Larry said nothing but strode on ahead up 
the Hill. He hated losing his temper, but that 
was not the chief reason for the gloom which 
bespread his face. Ted’s careless taunt had 
struck deeper than he had any idea. For 
Larry Holiday had made up his mind some 
time since that he was a coward. Long ago 
he had discovered that Ted and Tony reveled 
in hairbreadth exploits which made him sick 
to think of. More than once he had mado 


BEFORE THE FOURTH 


61 


himself take foolhardy dares just to conceal 
from the others the galling fact that he was 
afraid. Not for worlds would he have had 
any one suspect the truth, least of all his gal- 
lant soldier father. He would keep the hide- 
ous secret so long as he could, but he had a 
morbid vision that sometime or other it 
would creep out and lie exposed to the scorn 
of the world. He had brooded over the no- 
tion so long that it had become a festering 
sore in his inner consciousness. Thus it hap- 
pened that Ted, without the slightest inten- 
tion of doing so, had accidentally struck the 
most sensitive spot in his brother’s whole 
make up. Larry’s anger had leaped white 
hot in furious self-defense. That kind of 
charge no one should make with impunity. 
It would be soon enough to hear it when the 
truth lay open for all to see. 

Larry knew perfectly well, however, that 
it was not cowardice which kept him from 
falling in with the others’ plans. That had 
been simply common sense and a straight-see- 
ing sense of honor. He had long ago learned 
to reason out what Ted had yet to learn — 


62 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


that they who dance inevitably pay the piper 
in the end. He was no saint, but the game 
in this case did not seem in the least worth 
the candle. 

Tony met the boys at the gate with the 
threefold announcement that there was a long 
letter from ^ ‘ Daddy, that she had made ‘‘a 
gorgeous’’ cake and that Miss Ericson had 
invited them all to help her celebrate the 
Fourth in Mrs. Jewett’s yard the following 
afternoon. 

As the Lamberts sat at dinner a horn 
sounded somewhere across the lake. 

‘‘Dear me!” sighed Mrs. Lambert. “I 
had almost forgotten to-morrow was the 
Fourth.” 

“Better not,” warned Charley, “or you’ll 
get some awful shocks coming to you. We 
have a perfectly lovely lot of concentrated 
noise. And it’s Independence Day, which 
means that we do exactly as we pleg,se from 
morn till dewy eve, and very early morn at 
that, too.” 

“That is precisely what it does not mean 
on these premises. If anybody blows a horn 


BEFORE THE FOURTH 


63 


or fires a cracker before six o^clock be or sbe 
forfeits tbe rest of tbe concentrated noise for 
tbe day.’’ 

^‘Wbat a heartless threat, Daddy Lam- 
bert!” sighed Clare. ^^When we all love 
noise so, too. I think Fourth of July is heav- 
enly. ’ ’ 

Guess Mother thinks it is more like the 
other place,” chuckled Phil. 

‘‘I wonder if there will be much disturb- 
ance this year.” Mrs. Lambert glanced 
across at her husband. 

^ ‘ The usual amount of harmless fun, I sup- 
pose ; but the kind of thing which is a menace 
to property and safety and order I hope we 
discouraged sufficiently last year. We shall 
not hesitate to make arrests if necessary.” 

^‘How would you like to be put in the 
cooler, Phil?” The careless question 
brought a flush to Phil’s face, and Clare, see- 
ing this, changed the subject hastily. 

‘‘You don’t suppose Phil really would dare 
go with the crowd after all Father has said, 
do you?” she demanded of her twin later. 

“Don’t know. I thought he looked mighty 


64 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


guilty. My goodness, wouldn^t it be awful if 
Father had to arrest himT’ 

‘^Oh, Phil wouldn’t do anything really bad. 
He only wants to go because — well, just be- 
cause he can’t,” Clare finished philosoph- 
ically. 

The night before the Fourth of July in New 
England villages used to be very much 
what Hallowe’en is in other sections of the 
country, an occasion when lawlessness be- 
came legitimate and when he suffered least 
who could best take a joke at the hands of the 
revelers. Woe to him to whom the youthful 
rabble owed any old grudge, for payment was 
likely to be delivered in full account. As a 
rule, little serious damage was done, but a 
spirit of license prevailed which was a dis- 
tinctly destructive force in the community ac- 
cording to the views of Mr. Lambert and 
other public-minded citizens. 

It was with a full knowledge that he was 
running the risk of incurring his father’s 
serious displeasure, therefore, that Phil 
slipped unostentatiously out of the house, in- 
stead of going up-stairs to bed that evening. 


BEFORE THE FOURTH 


65 


and escaped down the Hill, where Ted was al- 
ready awaiting him in the shadow of the boat- 
house. 

^ ^Garner’ asked Phil. 

^^Sure!’^ Not for anything would Ted 
have admitted to any qualms. Phil was two 
years older and his pacemaker in most re- 
spects. It was characteristic that he found 
PhiPs recklessness more worthy of emula- 
tion than Larry ^s cool judgment. Yet it must 
be confessed neither of the boys felt quite 
the glow of enthusiasm he had anticipated 
would accompany the adventure, and their 
pace to the village was not a very zealous one 
though neither would have suggested a re- 
turn up the Hill. 

When they joined the crowd, however, their 
spirits rose, buoyed up by the excitement of 
the occasion, and catching the thrill of mob 
sentiment they were both soon inspired with 
the carnival mood of the evening and ready 
to participate in any ‘^deviltry.’’ 

Inanimate objects performed strange feats 
that night. Farmer Lewis ’ mowing machine 
found itself attached to a peculiar and very 


66 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


steady steed, namely his wife^s clotheshorse. 
Deacon Joy’s scarecrow hung, a victim of 
lynch law, on the rival deacon’s cherry-tree. 
Gates were removed from their hinges and 
deposited in strange places. Picket fences 
were impaled with half-ripened melons and 
squashes. It looked, indeed, as if the Brown- 
ies were abroad, only no kindly miracles were 
performed. 

John Hope’s prize calves, with red, white 
and blue ribbons about their necks, were teth- 
ered to Miss Mary Green’s fence where they 
blarted piteously all night. A particularly 
clever arrangement this was regarded, too, 
as John was purported to be courting Miss 
Mary after his very backward fashion. Old 
Jim, the junkman’s visible-ribbed gray steed, 
was turned loose to browse in Tom Mecklin’s 
clover patch. This, too, was subtle as Tom 
was notoriously the ‘‘meanest man in the vil- 
lage.’.’ These little matters successfully at- 
tended to, the crowd decided as it was after 
eleven it was high time the bells began to an- 
nounce the approach of the glorious Fourth 
and consequently scurried pell mell to the 


BEFORE THE FOURTH 


67 


common where the two churches stood. 

They attacked Dr. Holiday’s church first. 

“Locked tighter than a drum,” announced 
the vanguard. “How we going to get inT’ 

“Lift one of the kids up to the window, 
where the lock’s broken. Hi there, you little 
chap! You’ll do.” And Jerry David’s big 
brown hand descended on the wriggling and 
disconcerted Ted. 

“I don’t want to,” protested Ted. 

“Who in time is asking what you want? 
Up with you. Here, somebody put him up on 
my shoulder. There now, push like the 
mighty. ’ ’ 

Ted, considerably startled by his sudden 
elevation and thoroughly horrified at being 
made to break into his grandfather’s church, 
did not dare disobey and pushed “like the 
mighty. ’ ’ 

“Go to it. Kid. Another boost and you’ll 
do it,” encouraged some one. 

Another boost and Ted certainly did it. 
The window yielded, and through its sudden 
opening the boy pitched headfirst with a 
flurry of heels which suggested a frog taking 


68 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


a leap into a pool. At the same time some- 
body hissed ‘‘Constable,’’ and the crowd, self- 
ish and heedless in its fright as well as in its 
amusement, scattered in all directions, leav- 
ing poor Ted shut in the church and Phil 
Lambert alone outside, dismayed, frightened, 
but loyally rooted to the spot. Whatever 
happened he would not desert his comrade. 
That fact alone was fixed in a reeling uni- 


verse. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE END OF THE CELEBEATION 

‘‘Sol Ve gotcher, my fine chap. ’ ’ The hand 
of Barney Drury, the big chief constable, 
came down on PhiPs shoulder with a grip 
that might have been Beowulf ^s so mighty 
was it. “Well, blow my gizzard! If TainT 
Phil Lambert ! Father know yerout ? ^ ’ 

Phil shook his head. 

The big constable permitted a malicious 
grin to relax the sternness of his official ex- 
pression though the grip on PhiPs shoulder 
did not loosen correspondingly. 

“Reckoned not,^^ he chuckled. “Whatcher 
doin’ here, anyhow? Breakin’ inter the 
church ? ’ ’ 

“We — I — we all were. The others ran.” 

The grin widened. 

“Reckon they did. I thought a young 
army’d got loose. Why didn’t you run, 
too?” 


69 


70 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


didn^t — didn^t want to/’ stammered 
Phil, not being minded to betray Ted if he 
could help it, though he was at his wit’s end 
wondering if the other had been badly hurt 
by his fall from the window. 

‘^Likely yarn,” snitfed his captor. ‘^Out 
with the truth, young man, or I’ll hand ye 
over to your father, double quick. Were you 
up to more tricks I ’ ’ 

‘‘No, sir. Somebody is in the church and 
I didn’t want to leave him because maybe he’s 
hurt. He fell in.” 

“Fell inter the church! Well, by Heck!” 
The speaker gazed upward and again relieved 
his feelings by a throaty chuckle. “ ’Pears 
like the person’s eenamost ready ter fall out 
agin,” he averred. 

Phil, too, looked up hastily at this and was 
relieved to see Ted’s face looming up in the 
window. 

“I’m not hurt. But I had to pile up things 
a bit to get up here again,” the younger lad 
was observing tranquilly. “Please catch me. 
Mister Man. I’m coming down.” 

“Mister Man’s” jaw dropped. 


THE END OF THE CELEBRATION 71 


‘^Ye be, be jel Blow my gizzard, but 
you’re a cool one! How do I know tother 
won’t skip on me while I’m a catchin’ you?” 

‘‘Guess if I’d been going to skip I’d have 
done it before now,” said Phil somewhat in- 
dignantly. “Let me go, Mr. Drury. I won’t 
run. ’ ’ 

The constable grunted and released his 
grasp. 

“Right. Reckon I kin trust Stuart Lam- 
bert’s son to keep his word. Now then, 
Sonny, drop.” 

Whereupon was enacted the rather unusual 
scene of a representative of the law rescuing 
a breaker of the peace from durance. 

“Now then, ye young varmints,” he con- 
tinued when Ted was on “terra firma” once 
more, “tell the judgment truth. How much 
harm have ye done this night?” 

“None,” said Phil which was the literal 
truth. “We’ve been with the rest though 
and maybe that makes us just as bad,” he 
added honestly. “Ted didn’t want to go in 
the window. They made him.” 

The constable brought down his heavy 


72 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


brows and looked yery fierce but there was a 
twinkle in his eyes. 

‘‘Accomplices, by Heck!’’ he pronounced 
judicially. ‘ ‘ Who ’s tother one I ’ ’ pointing to 
Ted. 

“Ted Holiday!” 

“Parson’s grandson?” 

“Yes.” 

‘ ‘ H-m-m ! Might be in better business than 
failin’ inter meetin’ houses. Ye’re a couple 
er young scalawags who deserve a sound 
thrashin’ apiece, but since ye hain’t done any 
pertickler harm’s fur’s I kin see, I’ve a mind 
to let ye go Scot free. Blow me, if I hain ’t ! ” 

The boys said nothing but waited a little 
breathlessly for the decision. 

“I’d orter hand you over to yer Had,” he 
went on addressing Phil who bit his lip. That 
was what he had been afraid was coming. 

“But seein’s I was young onct myself, I 
guess I’ll let ye both go this time, pervidin’ 
ye ’ll make tracks fur home. ’ ’ 

The boys promised to accept his terms and, 
indeed, were only too glad to obey when he 
dismissed them with a final admonition to 


THE END OF THE CELEBRATION 73 


^‘skidaddle.’’ Neither had any inclination 
for further adventure that night. 

‘‘Phil, you could have gotten away with the 
rest, ^ ^ said Ted when they were out of hear- 
ing. ‘ ‘ Why didn T you I ’ ’ 

“What do you take me for? I wouldn’t 
have budged if the whole county police had 
been after me. After getting you into that 
hole I wasn’t very likely to leave you. Be- 
sides, I was scared to death for fear you were 
hurt.” 

Ted felt gingerly of his head. 

“I did get some whack on the corner of a 
pew. Dazed me for a minute, but I was all 
right in a jiffy. I had to go and get some 
chairs from the Sunday School room to climb 
on. That was what took me so long. My, 
but I was scared when I got back and heard 
voices! I thought sure you were being ar- 
rested. But he didn’t sound very fierce so I 
made my appearance. ’ ’ 

“Barney’s all right,” said Phil. “We 
were lucky to fall into his hands. Gee ! I’m 
glad it wasn’t Dad.” And Phil mopped his 
forehead as if the thought of that possible 


74 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


catastrophe were a little too much. “I say, 
Ted,’’ he added after a moment, ‘‘I’m no end 
sorry I got you into this mess. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Stutf ! Y on didn ’t get me in. I came be- 
cause I wanted to see what it was like. Found 
out, too. Jerusalem! I thought I’d come to 
the end of the world when I pitched in through 
the window. Whoopee! There’s a light in 
Uncle Phil’s office. S’pose he knows I’m not 
in?” 

“Shouldn’t wonder,” gloomily from Phil. 
“There is probably glory in store for both of 
us, worse luck. I’m going to try my darndest 
to effect a private entrance though. Good 
luck to you. Hope you get in all right. ’ ’ 

He crossed the street, went round behind 
the house, climbed the big maple tree and 
thence swinging on to the piazza roof entered 
his own room noiselessly through the win- 
dow. This feat he had performed more than 
once for fun but never before had he done it 
in such grim earnest and with such a guiltily 
beating heart as to-night, and very thankful 
he was when he realized that it was safely 
accomplished, apparently without having 


THE END OF THE CELEBRATION 75 


aroused a soul in the house. Ted, however, 
was less fortunate, for as he quietly let him- 
self into the house with the latch key he had 
taken the pains to provide for himself, he 
walked straight into his uncle coming out of 
the office. 

^‘Ted, where have you been?’’ 

‘‘Out,” said Ted rather obviously. 

“Without permission?” 

The boy nodded in silence. 

“Have you been down in the village with 
the crowd?” 

“Part of the time.” 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“No-o.” Suddenly Ted looked up, tired 
of evasions, ready to face the music like the 
soldier’s son he was. “I had a rotten time. 
Uncle Phil. I ought not to have gone, and 
I’m sorry.” The words were somewhat 
jerkily ejected, but they rang true for all 
that. 

“I am sorry, too,” returned his uncle 
gravely. “But it is too late to discuss the 
matter to-night. Good-night, my boy. ’ ’ 

And when Ted tumbled into bed a few min- 


76 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


utes later it was with an aching head, an un- 
comfortable sense of judgment suspended, 
and, worse still, the knowledge that he had 
been the first to break his promise to his 
father. When he finally fell asleep it was to 
dream that his grandfather was preaching 
to a congregation of scarecrows sitting in 
church pews arranged zigzag like a Virginia 
rail fence on the town common. 

There was no danger of any one’s sleeping 
unduly late the next morning for a rather 
continuous fusillade of noise went up all over 
the village, from sunrise on. The Hill was, 
however, fairly quiet, thanks to Mr. Lam- 
bert’s dire threat and the fact that the young 
Holidays were inordinate sleepy heads. 

The unsightly and decidedly uncomfort- 
able bump on Ted’s forehead added to his 
discomfiture and prevented his concealing his 
last night’s exploits even had it not been al- 
ready too late to do so. Tony was troubled 
and sympathetic; Larry, coolly superior, de- 
claring his misfortunes only served his 
young brother right. Mrs. Holiday, though 
her looks spoke volumes, had nothing to say 


THE END OF THE CELEBRATION 77 


to her graceless grandson, for she was scrup- 
ulonsly loyal to her agreement with her sons 
that in the last analysis the children were in 
Philip’s hands for discipline. It was a 
rather scared and meek Ted who obeyed a 
summons to his uncle’s office after breakfast, 
and it was a still further chastened one who 
emerged later with a sentence of bed that 
night while the fireworks were in progress. 

Phil, too, was in a subdued frame of mind. 
On the whole, it seemed to him he would have 
preferred to be in Ted’s shoes as an acknowl- 
edged, even penalized culprit, but somehow 
he could not drive himself to confessing, 
though he was in hourly dread lest somebody 
betray him to his father. He felt woefully 
cheap at letting Ted suffer the consequences 
alone for an escapade for which he very well 
knew he was largely responsible. Thanks to 
this conflicting state of emotions, he did not 
derive the customary delight from the ‘‘con- 
centrated noise” peculiar to the day, and 
found things surprisingly stale, flat, and un- 
profitable. 

“I say, Ted,” he said as the two boys 


78 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


strolled oft together, bound by the tie of their 
mutual guilt. ‘‘I can^t stand the show to- 
night if you can’t be there. Wish Dr. Phil 
had hit on something else.” 

‘‘Anything else would be just as bad,” 
philosophized Ted cheerfully. Being more 
or less accustomed to being in disgrace he 
was not unduly depressed by the condition. 
“Don’t be an idiot, Phil. It wouldn’t make 
me feel one bit better to know you were miss- 
ing things, too.” 

“Maybe ’twould me,” said Phil moodily. 
“Honest, I feel like an awful sneak.” 

“You needn’t. If I hadn’t been caught 
you wouldn’t have told and there isn’t any 
reason why you should as it is. ’ ’ 

“Didn’t Dr. Phil ask if I was with you?” 

“No, he didn’t. Uncle Phil’s a peach. 
Guess he knew I wouldn’t want to answer 
that question and so he didn’t ask it.” 

“You were awfully decent not to tell, any- 
way,’.’ said Phil. 

“Who was decent last night, I’d like to 
know? ’Course, I wouldn’t tell. It wouldn’t 
have helped me any with Uncle Phil, any- 


THE END OF THE CELEBRATION 79 


way. Gee! But he made me feel like a 
markdown.^’ And Ted shrugged reminis- 
cently. That rather ‘‘bad quarter of an 
hour’’ was still fresh in his memory. “Come 
on, let’s drown our sorrows in some noise.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE FOURTH 

By afternoon the satisfaction to be de- 
rived from sheer noise had waned sufficiently 
so that the Hill youngsters were not sorry 
for the new form of entertainment offered by 
Miss Ericson’s party,’’ though she dis- 
claimed so formal a title for the gathering 
and preferred to call it a ‘^neighboring.” It 
was certainly a joyous function. The chil- 
dren had found Miss Ericson very friendly 
and* ready to make overtures of thorough 
comradeship and were nothing loath to ac- 
cept her advances. “Miss Marjorie,” as 
they had permission to call her, was what Ted 
termed a “corker” and Tony termed a “dar- 
ling, ’ ’ which words seemed to be respectively 
the masculine and feminine equivalents suit- 
able to the facts of the case. 

To-day they had a thoroughly good time as 
her guests, playing games, doing “stunts,” 
80 


THE FOURTH 


81 


listening to the Victor for which she had sent 
to Boston, and in general making themselves 
perfectly at home. Finally, they came to 
doing some folk dances, an art of which Miss 
Marjorie knew something and of which Tony 
was past mistress. The latter was in her 
chosen element instructing the others in this 
form of amusement and every one forgot it 
was hot in the fascination of this brand new 
diversion. 

never saw anything like the child,’’ said 
Miss Ericson, apropos of Tony, to Mrs. Lam- 
bert who, with her ever-present mending- 
basket, had come to the ‘‘neighboring.” 
‘ ‘ She is like flame and thistledown. Did you 
ever see anything like her grace and aban- 
don?” 

“Her mother was an opera singer and 
dancer. I never saw her, but they say she 
was very beautiful and very gifted. Ned 
Holiday simply went wild over her, much to 
his mother’s horror. They married, and she 
left the stage, and every one says she was a 
most devoted mother. She died when Ted 


was bom.” 


82 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Ah, poor woman! Think of having to 
leave three children like that, especially that 
adorable little daughter! How she would 
love to see the child now. ’ ’ 

For Tony was doing a solo dance, swaying 
and pirouetting, with her graceful childish 
arms extended and her eyes shining as if she 
saw wondrous fairy things. The others 
stood about surprised and admiring, for this 
was a new Tony to the Hill, though her 
brothers were used to what Ted called her 
“capers.’’ 

“Hurray!” cried Charley enthusiastically 
as Tony paused a moment. “You’re a 
regular barefooter! Do some more! It’s 
great ! ’ ’ 

Tony smiled and kicked oft her slippers 
and began to dance stocking-footed in the 
grass. She danced on and on, half conscious 
only of the onlookers, fulfilling some rhyth- 
mic impulse of her ardent young soul, a fan- 
tasy which she herself perhaps scarcely un- 
derstood but the emotional reaction of which 
she felt vividly. Suddenly a new guest ar- 
rived on the scene, and seeing her uncle, Tony 


THE FOURTH 


83 


paused a little shyly and then ran to him, 
still in slipperless condition. The light went 
out of her face as she saw that he looked 
somewhat grave. 

‘MJncle Phil, donT you like to have me 
dancer’ she begged softly. 

“I don’t exactly know whether I do or 
don’t, Titania. You dance like a fairy, child, 
and it is a joy to see you. But, I rather 
fancy, I prefer you to be shod for prosaic hy- 
gienic reasons, if for no other. And Tony, 
be prepared for the fact that Granny would 
not like it.” 

Tony frowned rebelliously. 

‘‘Uncle Phil, there are precisely one hun- 
dred and one things I love to do which she 
doesn’t like. I have to dance. Sometimes 
my feet simply won’t stay still. ’ ’ 

He smiled at that. 

“When you feel the spell coming on, 
there’s the barn and the attic and a willing 
audience, at your royal service.” He bowed 
gallantly. 

“Uncle Phil, you are such a dear,” sighed 
Tony much relieved. “Do you know for a 


84 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


dreadful moment I thought you were going 
to scold! 

‘‘Do you know for a dreadful moment I 
thought I was, too!^’ he retorted with a twin- 
kle. “Ted,” he called, “bring the lady her 
slippers. The performance is over. I 
scent lunch.” 

Ted obeyed, and while Tony sat down on 
the grass to rehabilitate her feet Dr. Phil 
went to pay greetings to the ladies. 

“IVe lost my heart to your niece,” Miss 
Ericson announced with a smile and a nod in 
Tony’s direction. And Jean, hovering near 
her idol, felt a sharp little pang of resent- 
ment and jealousy. 

“Just because she’s pretty and can do 
things like that, everybody admires her, ’ ’ she 
thought angrily. “I guess there is no dan- 
ger of any one’s losing their heart to me.” 

“Jean, can you help me!” called Mrs. 
Jewett from the porch where she was setting 
forth fhe feast, and Jean departed with her 
head high. 

“Lucky, I’m good for something,” she 
thought ungraciously. 


THE FOURTH 


85 


fear altogether too many people are 
going to lose their hearts to Tony/^ Dr. Phil 
was saying. ‘‘Is there any prescription for 
keeping them unspoiled, Mother Lambert 

“Tony won’t spoil,” said Mrs. Lambert. 
“I’ve watched her, Phil. She will come out 
all right.” 

“I believe she will,” he agreed, “but I’m 
glad to have your expert testimony.” And 
as Miss Ericson excused herself to go and 
help Mrs. Jewett he followed. 

“Do you know you are a rather unusual 
person?” he said. “Is your idea of taking 
a complete rest, entertaining a crowd of ob- 
streperous youngsters, keyed to the pitch of 
Fourth of July excitement on one of the hot- 
test days we’ve had this summer? I’ll have 
to tell tales to Dr. Bill, down there in Bos- 
ton.” 

Dr. Bill was Dr. William R. Newcomb, a 
medical-school chum of Dr. Phil’s, through 
whom Miss Marjorie had come to the Hill. 
She and Dr. Phil had met before and were 
already good friends. 

‘ ‘ Oh, I love children. They never tire me. 


86 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


It is a real rest, at least a change to be with 
them. I always think I was meant to have 
been one of a large family, instead of being 
an unfortunate only child. As for Fourth 
of July — are folk dances and music and 
games not the best kind of holiday entertain- 
ment, preferable even to torpedoes and 
crackers V’ 

He laughed. 

‘‘So your party is in the nature of a safe 
and sane substitute? I don’t wonder you 
thought substitution desirable. It was a ‘bit 
thick’ as the Englishman says, this morn- 
ing.” 

“Oh, I survived the noise, but, seriously, 
I believe that communal celebration, pag- 
eants, music and the rest of it will soon su- 
persede the old glorification of noise. You 
are very backward in Dunbury.” 

“ Granted. We’ll have to do better an- 
other year. There are a good many of us 
who would cheerfully do away with the kind 
of communal celebration we had last night.” 
He smiled a little, remembering Ted’s ver- 
sion of his adventures. 



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THE FOURTH 


87 


‘‘Exactly, tod you can’t take away one 
form of pleasure without substituting an- 
other. ’ ’ 

“Eight again. You seem to know a whole 
lot of things besides how to mix paints. ’ ’ He 
smiled down at her, and it occurred to him 
that she was an extraordinarily pretty young 
person in her quaint short-waisted, ruffled 
blue gown, and wondered if Bill was content 
to keep her a mere patient. 

“Hello, here is Captain Jean at the wheel 
as usual,” he added. “Here is a person who 
is always right on the spot when there is 
anything to be done,” he declared to Miss 
Ericson. 

“So I have noticed,” agreed that young 
lady so heartily that Jean straightway lost 
sight of the little grudge she had been har- 
boring. 

And then there was a general summons to 
the guests to assemble, and soon sandwiches 
and deviled eggs and pickles and all sorts of 
other delicious food began to disappear at a 
truly remarkable rate. 

“Oh dear! I wish every day was the 


88 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Fourth/^ And Charley eyed her last spoon- 
ful of ice-cream regretfully as a symbol of 
the transitoriness of human delights. 

‘‘Heaven forbid!’^ laughed Hr. Phil, then, 
catching sight of PhiPs rather somber coun- 
tenance, he added, “What are you so pensive 
over, 0 my namesake? Too much Fourth?’’ 

Phil flushed and shot a sidelong glance at 
his mother. But she was talking to Mrs. 
Jewett and did not notice. 

“Maybe,” he admitted guardedly. 

For a moment his eyes met the doctor ’s and 
then the boy’s fell. The moment was en- 
lightening. Dr. Phil had asked his question 
lightly without malice aforethought, forget- 
ting for the time being any suspicions he 
might earlier have entertained as to Phil 
Lambert’s possible share in his nephew’s 
night escapade. The miserable confession in 
the lad’s eyes now left no doubt as to the 
true state of affairs. 

That evening another neighborhood gath- 
ering took place on the Holiday porch, in 
front of which Dr. Phil always undertook the 
execution of the Hill fireworks. Two only 


THE FOURTH 


89 


of the Hill denizens were absent. Mr. Lam- 
bert had remained at home to finish some 
business correspondence, promising to ap- 
pear later, and Ted lay upstairs in bed, with 
his head buried in his pillow trying to shut 
out the horribly fascinating whizz of the 
rockets. 

Tonyas tender heart ached for her banished 
brother and she could not dismiss him from 
her mind as inexorably as Larry could. But 
somebody else felt even more wretched over 
Ted^s enforced absence. Phil was calling 
himself all kinds of names and wishing with 
all his heart he had pled guilty early in the 
day instead of waiting until now when it 
seemed so impossibly hard to make confes- 
sion. He was ‘‘shirking^’ again, the worst 
kind of shirking, and he knew it. It was a 
distinct relief when Dr. Phil called him to 
help in setting up some of the fireworks. 
Anything was better than sitting still and 
thinking. But as he puttered over the task 
and his hands suddenly met the doctor ^s he 
felt that he couldnT stand the situation an- 
other moment. 


90 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Dr. Phil/’ he faltered in a low voice, 
“you know?” 

“I can guess a few things, Philip.” 

That grave “Philip” almost upset the boy. 
He admired the doctor tremendously and was 
overcome with shame, realizing what the 
other must think of him. 

“Ted wouldn’t have gone, if I hadn’t. It 
was my fault.” 

Dr. Phil said nothing, knowing there was 
more to come. 

“I’m going home to have it out with 
Father,” added Phil. 

Then the doctor’^ sternness relaxed and his 
hand rested with a firm, encouraging, friendly 
pressure on the boy’s. 

“Right, Phil. I didn’t think my namesake 
could really be a coward.” 

“I’m afraid I am, sometimes. Dr. Phil. 
But I’m not going to be about this any 
more.” And, to the surprise of every one, 
Phil shot across the road and into the other 
house. 

Nobody ever knew precisely what Stuart 
Lambert said to his son, but it was a very 


THE FOURTH 


91 


sober and penitent Phil who crept into bed 
an hour later, yet withal a happier Phil than 
the boy who had been dragging the chains of 
a guilty secret all day. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE ‘‘slough of DESPOND 

“Jean, will you make a cake and see to 
the bread and help the twins get dinner? 
Miss Maria is having one of her bad days and 
wants me to come down and stay with her.’’ 

Jean frowned and her mouth drew into a 
set and rather unlovely line. This was her 
morning for a lesson with Miss Marjorie. 
She had hurried to get everything done so 
she could go right over and now everything 
was spoiled. It did seem as if she had the 
hardest time of anybody she ever heard of. 
It was just too bad. 

“I don’t believe Maria Davis is sick any 
more than I am,” she said crossly, giving the 
sheet on the bed she was making an ill-tem- 
pered jerk. “I believe it’s just an excuse to 
get you down there to do her work.” 

Mrs. Lambert turned from the mirror be- 
fore which she had been fastening on her hat. 

92 


THE “SLOUGH OF DESPOND” 


93 


‘‘Why, daughter, that is not a very kind 
speech/’ 

“Well, maybe she is sick,” admitted Jean 
grudgingly. “But it does seem as if she 
might ask somebody else to help her out once 
in a while. I suppose you have to go and I 
have to stay at home and I can’t take a les- 
son with Miss Marjorie.” 

“Too bad, dear. I am very sorry. But 
Miss Ericson will understand, I am sure. 
Perhaps she can give you some time this 
afternoon. I will try to get back if I can.” 

A little ashamed of her peevishness but 
still aggrieved, Jean finished her bed-making 
in silence and then repaired to the Jewetts’ 
with her ill news. 

“Good morning, neighbor,” greeted a 
cheerful voice from the kitchen, and, to her 
surprise, Jean beheld Miss Marjorie envel- 
oped in a huge blue gingham apron, washing 
dishes as deftly as if that were her custom- 
ary morning amusement. “Dearie me! 
What a lugubrious countenance ! What’s the 
matter?” 

Unconsciously Jean’s frown relaxed and 


94 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


the corners of her mouth went up a few de- 
grees. 

‘‘Why under the sun are you washing 
dishes r’ she counter-questioned. Miss Mar- 
jorie was such a dainty person it seemed lit- 
tle short of sacrilege that she should be en- 
gaged in such a sordid pursuit. 

“One of Marthy^s children has the croup 
and I sent Mrs. Jewett down to cure her. I 
am doing the family housework, if you please. 
I am even empowered to get Sam’s lunch, 
though whether he will dare to come into the 
house and eat it is another question,” smiled 
Miss Marjorie reminiscently. Sam was Mrs. 
Jewett’s only son, a huge hulk of a man but 
as shy as a child. “I feel dreadfully swollen 
with importance. Do you mind if we post- 
pone the lesson until this afternoon? I have 
to concentrate my mind on Sam’s luncheon.” 

“I was just going to tell you I couldn’t 
come. Miss Maria Davis is sick, too, and 
Mother had to go down there and leave me 
to see to the baking.” 

“Baking!” groaned Miss Marjorie. “I 
begin to unswell. Mrs. Jewett didn’t em- 


THE “SLOUGH OF DESPOND’ 


95 


power me to bake but only to set out a cold 
lunch. There, there ^s the last dish,’^ and, 
wiping her hands, she came over and laid 
her slim fingers on the girl’s forehead. 
‘‘Jeanie, dear, it’s ironing day,” she said 
softly. 

Jean flushed and looked in some dismay at 
her friend. 

“Did I really look so dreadfully cross?” 
she queried. 

“Cloudy to cloudy as the weather bulletins 
say. There, that is better. Now run along, 
little girl. I’ll come over later and watch you 
bake, if I may.” 

“You may, but it will be dreadfully hot in 
the kitchen,” warned Jean. 

“Bread’s ‘riz.’ Ought to go into the oven 
this minute,” announced Charley as her sis- 
ter came in. 

“We’ve done the dishes and swept the 
porch and dusted the living-room, and if 
there is anything else to do speak quick or 
ever after hold your peace,” proclaimed 
Clare. “We’re going swimming.” 

“Oh, I don’t care what you do as long as 


96 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


you keep out of my way/^ said Jean sharply, 
already bent over the ‘‘riz’’ bread. ^^Your 
chatter is enough to drive anybody wild.’’ 

Suddenly she caught a glimpse of herself 
in the little mirror and instinctively put up 
her hand to smooth the pucker as Miss Mar- 
jorie had done. How horrid she did look, 
and that was the way Miss Marjorie had 
seen her. Oh dear ! She went to her baking 
with a will, for she really liked cooking in 
spite of her grumbling, and couldn’t help 
feeling very proud of the smooth brown 
loaves of bread, the delicious-looking cake 
and the dainty Italian cream which she had 
to show for her labors later when Miss Mar- 
jorie joined her. 

‘‘My, oh, my! How wonderful! Talk 
about being an artist ! You are one already, 
Jeanie — Jane Lambert.” 

And Jean smiled happily, well pleased with 
the praise. 

“Can’t you come out on the porch and cool 
off a minute!” continued her friend. 

But Jean, glancing at the clock, shook her 
head. It was high time for dinner prepara- 


THE “SLOUGH OF DESPOND” 


97 


tions to begin and the twins were nowhere 
in sight. 

‘‘Can’t I help? Here, let me do these. I 
know enough for that at least,” and Miss 
Ericson took the bowl of peas from Jean’s 
hand. 

“Come out on the porch and I’ll help,” of- 
fered Phil, appearing on the scene at the mo- 
ment. Miss Marjorie accepted the invita- 
tion and departed, leaving Jean to attend to 
the non-movable part of the feast. Poor 
Jean ! She was hot and tired and angry with 
the twins for not being here to help, and, 
most of all, she was jealous. She hated to 
share Miss Marjorie with any one, and the 
gay laughter which issued from the pea-shell- 
ers out on the porch was not calculated to 
soothe her ruffled feelings. 

“Good-by, child. I must run home to dear 
Sam or he will think he isn’t going to get 
even a cold luncheon. Why, Jean!” 

For, taken unaware by Miss Marjorie’s 
sudden entrance, Jean had permitted two big 
tears to roll down her hot face. 

“My dear! You are all tired out. In- 


98 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


stead of taking a lesson, you shall come over 
and lie in my orchard hammock this after- 
noon while I amuse you. ’ ’ 

Jean brushed away the tears with the cor- 
ner of her apron. 

‘‘Thank you, but if Mother doesnT get 
back Idl have to be here to see to things.’’ 
There was a little stiffness in her voice due 
to the effort she was making to drive back the 
tears which, once started, seemed bent on 
causing a flood. 

“Poor little Cinderella! Never mind. 
Your fairy godmother may be just around 
the corner. Look out for the pumpkin 
coach.” And the speaker stooped to drop a 
light kiss on the girPs forehead. 

For a moment happiness conquered weari- 
ness and temper, and all would have been 
well had not Jean, happening to glance out 
of the window, a moment later, seen Miss 
Marjorie and Phil, down by the lilac bush, 
their heads very close together, indulging in 
what was evidently a very absorbing conver- 
sation. She turned back to her tasks, but the 
little green demon was having his malicious 


THE “SLOUGH OF DESPOND” 


99 


way with her. At dinner she was too tired 
and dispirited to eat, and the last straw came, 
when, as they rose from the table, Phil an- 
nounced that he and Miss Marjorie had a 
‘‘bully secret.^’ 

“You can have your old secret, she blazed 
out hotly. “I’m sick to death of everybody 
and everything and I wish I were dead.” 
And, like a whirlwind, Jean flew up-stairs and 
locked herself in her own room. 

“Now, see what you’ve done!” Clare re- 
proached Phil. 

“Now, see what you have done rather. 
Jean had to get every speck of the dinner ex- 
cept the little Miss Marjorie and I did, which 
was mighty little.” 

“That’s so,” said Charley. “We’re pigs, 
Clare. Anyway, we’ll do all the rest of the 
work that’s done in this house to-day and let 
her rest. What is your secret, Phil?” she 
paused in the collection of dishes to ask. 

“Can’t tell yet, but it’s a good one all right. 
Miss Marjorie’s a peach from Peachville.” 

In her own room, Jean first indulged in the 
luxury of a thorough “weep” and then fell 


100 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


asleep, utterly exhausted, physically and 
otherwise. When she awoke it was nearly 
five o’clock and she rose hastily to bathe and 
dress. The sleep had done her much good 
and she was ready to view the world more 
normally, but try as she would she could not 
quite banish the little green demon. It did 
seem queer that Miss Marjorie should share 
a secret with Phil and say nothing to herself 
about it. She couldn’t help feeling a little 
sore and hurt still on that subject. 

When she went down-atairs she could hear 
Charley singing ^‘Tipperary” at the top of 
her lungs in the kitchen. In the dining-room 
the cheerful clatter of dishes told that Clare 
was setting the table. From the porch came 
Phil’s voice declaiming, ‘‘No, no, by the hair 
of my chinny-chin-chin ! ” for Eleanor’s de- 
lectation. Evidently the whole family was 
on its good behavior. 

“ ’Lo, Jean,” called Phil as she passed the 
hall door. “Come out and enjoy yourself. 
Twins are getting supper.” 

Jean accepted the invitation, willing to 
meet her brother half way in his advances. 


THE “SLOUGH OF DESPOND’ 


101 


‘‘Have a napT’ he asked, making a boyish 
effort to be casual. 

“Yes, I slept all the afternoon. Phil, I 
needn’t have been so cross with you. I was 
awfully tired, and I guess it was a kind of 
heaped up pile of things that made me burst 
but that way. I’m sorry.” 

“That’s all right. I didn’t mind. Guess 
we have been a set of pigs, as Charley 
says. ’ ’ 

“Oh no,” she protested. “It isn’t that, 
Phil. It’s — ” But how could she explain it 
was mostly a silly freak of jealousy of which 
she knew she ought to be heartily ashamed? 

“I guess it was a whole lot of things,” he 
finished for her. “You’ll feel better 
when — ” But here he clapped his hand over 
his mouth. “There’s Mother,” he added 
hastily, and bounded down the steps, across 
the grass, to meet the new arrival. 

“I say. Mums, did Miss Ericson telephone 
you ? ” he asked, linking his arm in hers. 

“Yes.” 

“And you are willing?” 

“Yes, indeed. More than willing.” 


102 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Hurray! I’m so glad. YeTl be after 
likin’ your new Bridget so well ye’ll be 
wantin’ to kape her furiver,” he chuckled. 

“I rather think I shall,” she smiled back. 


CHAPTER X 


THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND 

As they rose from the supper table that 
night, Phil astonished his sister by saying 
casually, ‘^Come on out for a paddle, Jean. 
There ’s a great old moon. ’ ’ 

She had so often refused to do things with 
the others that they had almost ceased to in- 
vite her to join them in their pastimes and 
pursuits. More and more she had crept into 
the shell of her reserve, living her own life 
and dreaming her own dreams to herself. 
Yet with the unreasonableness of human na- 
ture, she had been often hurt by the very ex- 
clusion which she had herself created. Ac- 
cordingly, to-night PhiPs cordial invitation, 
complete surprise as it was, almost sent the 
tears welling up in her eyes again. 

^‘Miss Marjorie’s going too,” he added, al- 
most as if he felt the need of bribing her ac- 
ceptance. 


108 


104 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘ ^ Oh r ’ she exclaimed quickly. ‘ ^ Of course 
I’d love to go,” and wished she could find a 
way of making him understand she would 
have been glad to go anyway, even without 
Miss Ericson. 

Certainly there seemed little left to desire, 
when, later, they drifted down the moonlit 
lake, Phil at the paddle and the two girls 
luxuriously nestled among the cushions. All 
the weariness and hurt and jealousy of the 
day were swept away and Jean gave herself 
utterly to the enjoyment of the beauty of the 
night and the congenial society. She did 
not care even to talk and let Phil and Miss 
Marjorie preempt most of the conversa- 
tion. It was enough just to he, for the 
time. 

And when Miss Marjorie kissed her good- 
night and whispered, Don’t forget to watch 
out for the pumpkin coach,” Jean smiled 
back and said she thought she had been in it 
that evening. 

When she awoke the next morning she 
couldn’t help feeling as if something delight- 
ful were about to happen and went about her 


THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND 


105 


tasks with a little smile on her lips and an 
unusual lightness of step, corresponding to 
the lightness of her heart. 

‘^Miss Marjorie wants you to go driving 
with her this afternoon,^’ announced Phil 
from the telephone. ‘^Shedl be here at half- 
past two.’^ 

And after dinner, when Jean ran up-stairs 
to get ready for the drive, she felt like a very 
different person from the tired, miserable, lit- 
tle shrew of twenty-four hours earlier. 

Better wear your suit,^’ advised her 
mother, and, nothing loath, Jean went to get 
out the pretty blue suit in which she knew she 
looked her best. 

Altogether the mirror vision was not 
nearly so unsatisfactory as usual this time, 
when the girl took a last peep before going 
down-stairs. The trim suit, with the wide, 
white lawn collar of her shirtwaist softening 
its lines about her slim throat, the little blue 
hat with the bobbing cherries, which 5‘ust 
suited the small oval face, and, more than all, 
the excited color in her cheeks and the happi- 
ness which shone in her gray eyes made J ean 


106 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


very good to look at even to her own critical 
gaze. 

As she came down-stairs she was surprised 
at seeing Phil stow away a suitcase in the 
back of Sam Jewett’s ‘‘democrat” and found 
the whole family assembled on the porch as 
if the occasion were more significant than an 
ordinary afternoon drive. 

“Behold the pumpkin coach,” laughed 
Miss Marjorie, pointing to the “democrat.” 
“Did you know you were going to be kid- 
napped, Princess!” 

Jean gasped and turned to her mother for 
enlightenment. 

“Miss Marjorie is going to borrow you for 
a week, Jean. We shall miss you dreadfully, 
but we are all delighted that you are going to 
have a real holiday.” 

“But can you spare me!” faltered Jean. 

Mrs. Lambert smiled. 

“I have engaged a new maid,” she ex- 
plained. 

‘ ‘ Bridget 0 ’Flynn, at your service, M ’m, ’ ’ 
said Phil gayly. ‘ ‘ Stiddy as a clock and war- 
ranted to go eight days without stopping.” 


THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND 


107 


And then the good-bys were said and Phil 
helped the two girls into the carriage and 
they departed for the station. Jean’s last 
qualm was dispelled when she found her 
father was there to see her off. 

‘ ^ Good-by, little girl, have a good time and 
don’t forget us,” he said. Here’s a little 
extra spending money,” and he tucked a bill 
in her hand. 

Just then Dr. Phil also appeared on the 
scene, armed with magazines and a box of 
candy, which he presented to the travelers. 
A few minutes later the train snorted in, and 
Jean, still in a daze, was rushed into the Pull- 
man and deposited in a big chair. Before she 
quite realized what was happening to her 
they were leaving the station and her last 
glimpse of home was the wave of Phil’s cap. 
She leaned back in the chair and for a moment 
gave herself up to its novel luxury and then, 
inevitably, came the query, Where are we 
going?” 

^‘Fairyland, of course,” smiled Miss Mar- 
jorie. 

‘‘Oh-h! Miss Marjorie, why ever in the 


108 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


world are you so good to me? Was this 
PhiPs secret Jean added suddenly as the 
inspiration came. 

course it was. We planned it all yes- 
terday and got your mother ’s consent. They 
packed your bag last night, while we were out 
canoeing. The twins nearly burst this morn- 
ing trying not to tell. Phil offered, of his 
own accord, to help with the work so there 
would be nothing to spoil the full enjoyment 
of your holiday. ’ ’ 

Jean drew a long breath. 

^‘And he just hates doing housework, too! 
Isn’t that good of him? Oh, dear! And I 
was so cross with him yesterday just when he 
was planning to do all that for me. Why, 
Miss Marjorie, you don’t know how horrid 
and — jealous — I may as well say it — was, 
because I hated to have him have a secret 
with you.” 

‘‘Was that it? I didn’t suspect.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t. I’m awfully 
ashamed now, ’specially since it was all for 
me. Oh, Miss Marjorie!” And Jean raised 
a flushed, penitent face. 


THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND 


109 


‘^Oh, Jeanie — Jane! Now, yon have that 
off your mind, just forget everything except 
that we are going to Fairyland. ’ ’ 

^‘All right,’’ and Jean snuggled down con- 
tentedly. don’t see how I could be hap- 
pier than I am this blessed minute. I don’t 
care where we are going. I’m just mean- 
ing to enjoy every minute as it comes 
along. ’ ’ 

Several hours later they disembarked at 
the great station in Boston and surrendered 
their bags to a tall, gray uniformed, red- 
capped personage who impressed Jean 
greatly by his air of importance. She hardly 
got her breath before they were being rushed 
across the city in a taxi-cab, another new ex- 
perience. Her godmother was evidently of 
the most expert twentieth century variety. 
They were soon comfortably located in a quiet 
hotel, just off Copley Square, and later sat 
down to dinner in the great cool dining-room 
where soft music was being played and negro 
waiters plied noiselessly to and fro among the 
tables. 

^H’m a country mouse,” laughed Jean. 


110 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Do you know I never stayed all night in a 
hotel in my whole lifeT’ 

‘ ‘ How do you like itV^ 

Jean looked meditatively about the room 
and at the assembled guests. 

“It is lovely/^ she said, “and the people 
all look so nice and prosperous and calm and 
as if they never could, by any chance, fail to 
use the right fork. It is great fun to see it, 
but I^d hate living in a place like this. Why 
do you suppose people ever do it? I think a 
home is ever so much nicer, don’t you?” 

“I certainly do,” agreed her hostess em- 
phatically. “You are a very lucky princess 
to have a home like yours.” 

J ean’s eyes grew a little sober. All at once 
that dear, shabby home seemed horribly far 
away. Just for a moment she would have 
given all the world to be back in it with 
Mother and the others. Then the orchestra 
began to play again, and the waiter brought a 
wonderful grapefruit salad, and Jean pulled 
herself together. It would never, never do to 
get homesick when Miss Marjorie was doing 
such lovely things for her. 


THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND 


111 


After that there was no time to think of 
being homesick. They went to the theater 
that evening and in the morning walked in the 
Public Garden and made a tour of the library, 
where Jean had a beatific time admiring the 
pictures, especially the Abbey mural paint- 
ings of the Grail, for she adored the Arthu- 
rian legends and knew Malory and Tenny- 
son’s Idylls nearly by heart. All too soon 
Miss Marjorie dragged her back to the hotel 
where she was bidden to take a rest before 
luncheon and had to crawl up on her bed and 
watch her friend repack their bags. 

The next move was even more delightful. 
As soon as luncheon was over there was an- 
other cab ride and in a surprisingly short 
time the princess and her fairy godmother 
were transferred to the Gloucester boat and 
were straightway sailing down the harbor to 
Jean’s boundless delight, though she became 
more and more silent in proportion as her 
happiness increased. That was Jean’s way 
and was quite well understood. Miss Mar- 
jorie understood most things it seemed. 

Every island and lighthouse and bit of 


112 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


shore was of interest to Jean. As for the 
sparkling blue water dancing up to meet the 
equally blue sky, the entrancing strips of yel- 
low sands, the vivid bits of green, all of these 
made her artist eye fairly dizzy with rapture. 
Altogether it was a delightful sail and Jean 
could hardly bear to leave the boat three 
hours later at the Gloucester pier, but one 
sensation followed another so quickly that she 
scarcely had time to regret anything. In 
Gloucester they took a street car and rode out 
of the fascinating, fishy old town through 
Eockport and beyond to Pigeon Cove. All 
the way were wonderful bits of sea view and 
charming gardens gay with hollyhocks and 
verbena and crimson ramblers. 

Finally they left the car and walked up a 
path to a small brown cottage, with shady 
trees and bright little garden plots in front. 
Before Miss Ericson had time to knock, the 
door flew open and a tiny, plump, blue-eyed 
lady bobbed out under the vine-hung portico, 
for all the world like the figure in a Swiss 
clock Jean remembered having seen some- 
where. 


THE WAY TO FAIRYLAND 


113 


‘‘Well, bless your heart, if it isn’t Miss 
Margie!” ejaculated the small person, lean- 
ing forward to print a smacking kiss on each 
of Miss Marjorie’s cheeks. 

“Did you get my wire?” 

“I certainly did. Beats all how fast good 
news travels these days. You needn’t have 
bothered though. You’re always as welcome 
as spring posies.” 

And then Jean was introduced and also ac- 
corded a warm welcome by Mrs. Baxter, who 
informed the girl that she had known Miss 
Margie since she was knee high to a grass- 
hopper and that it was a sight for sore eyes 
to see her any time. And then they were es- 
corted up-stairs and their belongings placed 
in adjoining rooms. Jean was delighted to 
find that her window overlooked the sea, just 
now a heaving mass of sapphire. Surely this 
was Fairyland indeed! She was still stand- 
ing by the window, fascinated by the beauty 
of its prospect, when Miss Marjorie knocked 
and entered. 

“Well, Princess, how do you like it?” 

“I just haven’t any words to tell,” sighed 


114 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Jean, turning from the window. ‘^Miss Mar- 
jorie, I’m afraid I’ll just fly away like thistle- 
down, I’m so happy.” 

‘ ^ Hold on tight until you get some of Mrs. 
Baxter’s biscuits and clam fritters into you 
for ballast,” laughed Miss Marjorie. ^‘Sup- 
per will be ready in ten minutes, and we 
must eat quickly so as not to miss the sun- 
set.” 


CHAPTER XI 


TONY DISCOVEKS 

There was a circus in the nearest town and 
Dr. Phil had taken the boys to it. Tony, also, 
was to have been included in the outing but 
some friends of Mrs. Holiday's, who were 
staying at the hotel, announced their in- 
tention of calling that afternoon, and, as the 
guests included a girl of Tony’s age, it had 
been decreed that the latter must remain at 
home to entertain the visitor. Poor Tony! 
It did seem as if there was no end to the 
price exacted for trying to be a ‘^gentle- 
woman.” She didn’t, in the least, mind stay- 
ing in that morning to help her grandmother 
make cookies and iced tea, but she did resent 
giving up the circus on account of the in- 
vasion. It was “pretty near the end of the 
limit” as she confided to the twins who, with 
Phil, had been invited to join the circus party, 
under the doctor’s chaperonage. 

115 


116 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


But there was no disputing Granny ^s ulti- 
matums, and Tony had to watch the others 
drive away with as much fortitude as she 
could muster which, it must be confessed, was 
not a very large store. The Hill seemed hor- 
ribly still stripped of its younger inhabitants, 
and she wandered about disconsolately seek- 
ing diversion while she waited the arrival of 
the guests. Presently she purloined a hand- 
ful of lump sugar and fled to the barn to feed 
Tessy, the doctor’s saddle horse, who was al- 
ways keenly appreciative of such favors and 
seemed particularly glad to welcome company 
to-day in the absence of Gypsy and Jerry. 
She felt a little bit less lonely herself as 
Tessy burrowed her velvety nose in her bene- 
factor’s hand and Tony rested her head af- 
fectionately against the black mane in re- 
sponse. Suddenly, however, she lifted her 
head quickly. From somewhere in the barn 
came a queer sound — a sound resembling a 
human cough. To the best of her belief she 
was alone with Tessy, for even the men had 
gone to the circus, yet she was certain it was 
a human sound. 


TONY DISCOVERS 


117 


Breathlessly she waited, and after a mo- 
ment it came again, muffled and strange but 
still decidedly human sounding. Somebody 
was in the barn — somebody who very ob- 
viously had no right to be there. Her heart 
began to beat a little unsteadily and with such 
a thump-thumping it seemed as if the per- 
son, if person there were, must hear it. 
Tessy, too, whinnied uneasily and turned her 
head inquiringly as much as to say, ^^What 
do you think about it?^’ 

‘‘Oh, dear!^’ thought Tony; “if only Uncle 
Phil were here. Maybe it^s somebody wait- 
ing till night to set fire to the barn or steal 
something or maybe he’s an escaped pris- 
oner. ’ ’ 

This last thought was sufflciently ominous 
to send her scampering out of the barn. The 
cheerful everydayness of things outside reas- 
sured her and made her feel she must have 
imagined the whole thing. 

“I don’t believe it was any one at all,” she 
thought, half ashamed of her panic. “I be- 
lieve I’ll go back and give Tessy the rest of 
the sugar.” 


118 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


The barn was perfectly quiet this time save 
for the placid champing of Tessy^s teeth on 
the manger and the sudden flurry of wings as 
old Whitey, the Plymouth Kock hen, flew 
down from the loft at the other end of the 
barn. 

•‘‘Bet youVe stolen a nest,’’ said Tony. 
^‘You needn’t act so important. I know I 
could find it easy enough if I tried. G,uess I 
will, this minute. ’ ’ 

And, following her impulse, Tony mounted 
the ladder which led to the loft, bent on dis- 
covering the nest. Suddenly, from almost 
under her feet, it seemed, came that queer 
noise again, unmistakably a human cough. 
She put her hand over her mouth to keep 
from screaming. Before her fascinated gaze 
the hay in the corner of the loft began to 
move, and to her horror she saw a head lift 
itself to view, followed by a pair of shoulders. 
Too frightened to move, Tony stood stock 
still and stared at the stowaway who didn’t 
look very forbidding, however; just a very 
thin, very white, sick-looking boy about 
Larry’s age. Even as she gazed he was 


TONY DISCOVERS 


119 


seized with another paroxysm of coughing, 
which shook his slight frame pitifully and 
brought an unwholesome purple hue into his 
ashy cheeks. Tony forgot fear in sympathy. 

^‘CanT I do something for jouV^ she 
begged. ‘‘Wait.’’ And without pausing for 
an answer she took two leaps across the mow 
and was down the ladder like a flash. 

In a moment she was back with a tin drink- 
ing-cup filled with water from the barnyard 
pump. 

“Here, drink this,” she ordered, kneeling 
beside the intruder. 

He obeyed, draining the cup with a feverish 
gulp. 

“Thank ye,” he muttered and leaned 
limply back in the hay. “If ye’ll lemme stay 
till after dark without tellin’ nobody I’ll go,” 
he bargained weakly. “I hain’t done 
nothin’ — no harm — just restin’ a bit.” 
Every word seemed to come with an effort. 

“But you are sick. You can’t go any- 
where. Are you hungry ? ’ ’ 

He grinned faintly. 

“Oh, no, I ain’t hungry. Hain’t had 


120 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


nothin’ to eat since yesterday mornin’. But 
I ain’t hungry, nor nothin’,” ironically. 

Mercy!” cried Tony horrified. ”I’ll run 
and get you something this minute. ’ ’ 

But he stopped her with a gesture. 

ain’t a beggar,” he objected. ^‘Be- 
sides, I don’t want nobody to know I’m 
here.” 

‘ ‘ They won ’t. I can get something without 
a soul knowing,” Tony confided eagerly. 
‘^Grandfather’s taking a nap and Granny’s 
dressing for the company. Mary Anne 
Eliza’s gone to the circus and so has every 
one else. I can get into the pantry and out 
in a jiffy.” 

She was off again, and in a brief space of 
time was back, armed with a pail of dough- 
nuts and cookies and apples. 

“That was all I dared stop for,” she ex- 
plained. “I couldn’t cut the cake for fear 
Granny would ask questions, but she won’t 
miss these things.” 

He had already fallen greedily to the feast 
and it wasn’t until the first edge was off his 
appetite that he looked up. 


TONY DISCOVERS 


121 


“ Ye ^re mighty kind, ’ ^ he said huskily. ‘ ‘ I 
— I’d sorter like to have you know I ain’t 
hidin’ ’cause I’ve done anythin’ to be 
shamed on. I ain’t hidin’ from nobody I 
hain’t a right to hide from,” he added darkly. 

Tony plumped down on the hay beside him. 
She had utterly forgotten that she was sup- 
posed to be making her toilet in honor of the 
expected guests, forgotten, too, that she had 
ever been afraid of this other unbidden guest. 

‘‘Won’t you tell me about it?” she begged 
eagerly. 

He shot a sharp, suspicious glance in her 
direction. 

“If I do, will ye promise not to peach?” 
he exacted. 

“Of course, I won’t tell anything you don’t 
want me to,” promised Tony. “Have you 
run away?” 

He nodded. 

“From the circus,” he admitted. 

“The circus! Oh, my!” This was even 
more interesting than she had imagined, quite 
a story-book confession. “Why did you run 
away?” she pursued. 


122 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


He frowned but rather as at some hateful 
memory than at her. 

run away ’cause J — somebody cussed 
me out and licked me once too often. I’ve 
been kicked round and cussed and half 
starved till I was da — ” He broke off, swal- 
lowed hard and began again. ‘‘Till I was 
sick of it. I made up my mind there was a 
chance to make a getaway while they was set- 
tin’ up the tents and I lit out ’bout three 
o’clock yesterday mornin’. I didn’t know 
what would become o’ me, but I reckoned I 
didn’t care much. Couldn’t very well be wus 
off.” 

“But haven’t you anybody to care what be- 
comes of you! No father or mother!” 

“Not as I ever he’erd of. The chap that 
claimed to have the right to kick an’ cuss me 
wan’t my father — damn him! There, I 
didn’t mean to say that,” seeing Tony’s 
shocked eyes. “I choked it off before.” 

“Never mind. Only please don’t do it 
again. Do you mind telling me what your 
name is!” She changed the subject. 

“Dick,” concisely. 


TONY DISCOVERS 


123 


^^Dickwhatr’ 

‘^Dick nothin’. I never he’erd as how 
there was any more to it.” 

‘‘But everybody has two names,” objected 
Tony. 

“Well, I hain’t. Supposin’ you give me 
yours?” he suggested jocosely. 

But Tony took the remark quite seriously. 

“All right. I have a middle name I never 
use. I’m Antoinette Carson Holiday. You 
can have the Carson if you like. Dick is short 
for Richard. I think Richard Carson sounds 
all right, don’t you?” 

He grunted. 

“Sounds all right. But what would your 
folks say to me takin’ your name ? ’Course, I 
was just kiddin’. I couldn’t take your name. 
It’s too good for a d — a tramp like me,” he 
corrected hastily. 

“I don’t see as anybody ought to mind. A 
name doesn’t matter much anyway. Only I 
think you might get on better with two, since 
it’s customary. I’m going to call you Rich- 
ard Carson,” she concluded with character- 
istic conviction. 


124 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


ahead/’ he grinned. ‘‘I sorter like 
the sound of it myself — the way you say it. ’ ’ 

Here he was seized with another attack of 
coughing and Tony flew to fill the pail with 
water. When she came back he was strug- 
gling weakly to his feet. 

Guess I’d better be movin’ on, ’fore your 
folks gets back from the circus,” he said. 

^^You aren’t able,” said Tony. ^^Sit down 
this instant. No, lie down. You look dread- 
fully sick. Now, listen to me. You stay 
right here and I don’t believe anybody will 
find you. If they do, just tell them that Tony 
said you could stay. Tony’s me,” she added 
by way of explanation. 

‘‘Oh, so Tony’s you?” He smiled a little 
and Tony decided she liked his eyes when 
he smiled. 

“And when Uncle Phil gets home. I’ll tell 
him about you and he ’ll know what to do. ’ ’ 

Dick stiffened. 

“You promised not to peach,” he re- 
minded. 

“Uncle Phil is all right. He’s a doctor 
and everybody tells him their secrets and he 


TONY DISCOVERS 


125 


helps every one. Please, don’t tell me I can’t 
tell him, because I just have to tell him things, 
and besides, you’re sick and you need to have 
him take care of you. ’ ’ 

^‘Ye won’t let him turn me over to J — to 
that man — the circus feller P’ he persisted. 

‘‘No, indeed. I promise you that.” 

“All right. Do’s ye like ’bout the rest, 
then,” he assented. 

And, having had her way, Tony sprang up. 

“Now I must go or somebody will be look- 
ing for me,” she explained. “I’ll try to 
bring you some supper. ’ ’ 

“Don’t bother. Fact is, I gobbled them 
doughnuts so, I feel sorter queer.” 
shrugged a little. “Just ye leave me be. 
I’m all right, and thank ye right kindly. Miss, 
for all ye’ve done.” 

Tony lingered a moment. 

“Promise me you won’t try to go,” she bar- 
gained in her turn. 

“Promise,” nodded Richard Carson. 
“Gosh! Somebody’s cornin’.” As the 
honk of an automobile sounded in the drive- 


way. 


126 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Whew! I must skip,’’ and Tony beat a 
hasty exit. “I’m not dressed and Granny 
will be awfully provoked but I don’t care,” 
she thought recklessly as she entered the 
house via the shed and escaped up the back 
stairs to her own room. 


CHAPTER XII 


DICK 

How Tony managed to get through the 
next two hours she never knew. Evelyn 
Harding, the small, affected. French-heeled, 
languid specimen of femininity whom she was 
expected to entertain, would have been ob- 
noxious enough under any circumstances, and 
in the hostess ’ present preoccupation the case 
was almost hopeless. Underneath her spas- 
modic efforts at conversation Tony couldn’t 
help wondering how the boy was getting along 
in the barn, if he were very sick, what would 
happen if anybody discovered him, what 
Uncle Phil would say, and a thousand other 
things beside. It didn’t help matters any to 
know that her grandmother, already dis- 
pleased by her failure to be on hand when the 
guests arrived, was regarding her with dis- 
approving eyes, evidently quite conscious of 
her lapses as a hostess. No wonder Tony 
127 


128 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


went nearly distracted and thought the guests 
never would leave. 

When at last they did go she took her 
grandmother’s reproof very meekly — a meek- 
ness in fact which was largely due to inat- 
tention. When one’s mind is as cram full of 
really important things as Tony’s was even 
a lecture doesn’t matter much, especially if 
you are moderately used to them. As soon 
as she could escape, she ran to the barn and 
again climbed to the hay loft. To her dis- 
may, she heard a low, moaning sound, and as 
she reached the corner met a pair of wild, 
roving, unrecognizing eyes. 

‘‘Ye’ll never git another chanct to lay 
finger on me, Jim Bates,” Dick muttered men- 
acingly, and then there followed a terrible 
oath which made Tony shiver and step back. 
“Go ’way! Go ’way I ” he begged. “Lemme 
’lone. I hain’t done nothin’.” 

‘ ‘ Don ’t you know me ? I’m Tony. ’ ’ 

But he only groaned and shut his eyes, and 
Tony realized that this was no time for 
secrecy or delay. To her immense relief, she 
heard the clatter of horses’ hoofs and voices 


DICK 


129 


and knew that Uncle Phil was back. She 
tumbled down the ladder with hazardous 
speed and in a moment she was pouring forth 
a jumble of excited words in her uncle ^s per- 
plexed ears. When he grasped what it was 
all about he lost no time in following Tony’s 
lead up the ladder and fifteen minutes later, 
Eichard, surnamed Carson, was installed in a 
comfortable bed in an up-stairs chamber in 
the Holiday house with the doctor in attend- 
ance. 

In the meantime every one down-stairs was 
hounding Tony for information, which she 
steadily refused to give until her uncle ar- 
rived. When he joined them, she managed to 
give a fairly connected version of her after- 
noon’s adventure, begging that they would 
all help her keep her promise not to hand 
poor Dick back to the ‘^horrid circus 
man. ’ ’ 

‘‘We will see that no harm comes to the 
poor lad. Indeed, he is in no condition to be 
handed over to anybody. He is very sick. 
No, Mother, it is nothing to be alarmed about. 
There is nothing contagious or even danger- 


130 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


ous about his condition. He is worn out with 
fatigue, brutal treatment and mal-nutrition. 
Incidentally, he has a cold that would have de- 
veloped into pneumonia with the slightest en- 
couragement. Thanks to Tony, here, we’ll 
pull him through and set him on his feet 
again.” 

‘^Oh, Uncle Phil, I’m so glad,” and Tony 
threw herself into her uncle’s arms. If Uncle 
Phil said it was all right, then it was all right, 
no matter what any one else thought. 

‘^Philip, I think you are doing very wrong 
to praise Antoinette. She did a very fool- 
hardy and dangerous thing, and I, for one, 
distinctly disapprove of her conduct.” 

“Hold on. Mother. Maybe Tony does de- 
serve a bit of a scolding along with the praise, 
but not to-night. Her cup is about full for the 
present.” 

And Tony’s eyes filled with grateful tears. 
Uncle Phil always knew precisely how one 
felt and when a little more would be just too 
much. “Now, then. Miss Culprit — Heroine, 
let’s go and get some supper. We circus peo- 
ple are nearly starved, though I suppose the 


DICK 


131 


rest of you who feasted on high tea and ad- 
venture are not in such a fatal condition. ’ ’ 

But Tony could not eat, and her uncle, see- 
ing she was exhausted by her rather nerve- 
racking day, ordered her off to bed promising 
to bring her a ‘ ‘love-potion’’ if she were not 
asleep in half an hour. But he found her 
wide awake as ever when he peeped into the 
bedroom later, and proceeded to give her a 
dose of bromide which she swallowed meekly. 

‘ ‘ Uncle Phil, you are awfully good to me, ’ ’ 
she whispered. “I just couldn’t have stood 
to have Granny scold me again to-night. 
She’ll never understand, and you always do 
somehow. Is Dick better?” 

“He is quieter but the delirium hasn’t en- 
tirely left him. He’ll be all right in the 
morning. Don’t worry your tender heart 
about him. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I’m so glad he is in your hands. I 
was so scared about him, he looked so wild. I 
like him. Uncle Phil. He uses queer English, 
and I am afraid he swears a good deal, though 
he tried not to to-day, but I do like him. He ’s 
all right. I just know he is.” 


132 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


^^Take your word for it. Now go to sleep 
or ITl give you a worse tasting dose.’^ 

‘‘Doesn’t seem as if I ever could. My 
brain’s all burning up. Now, please don’t 
tell me to count sheep. I get so fascinated 
watching ’em get over the wall, one after the 
other, that it makes me wider awake than 
ever. ’ ’ 

“Never mind the lambkins. Just lie still 
and make your mind a nice clean blank like a 
piece of paper and you’ll get to the Land o’ 
Nod by the first express.” 

And so she did. But Dr. Phil watched all 
night by the sick boy’s side, and listening to 
his ravings discovered considerable informa- 
tion about his past life, information which 
made him sick at heart. 

“Brutes like that Jim chap don’t deserve to 
live,” he thought. “We’ll have to give the 
lad a chance, if only to prove that there are a 
few decent human beings in his world.” 

By morning the fever had abated and the 
delirium ceased. Dick woke in the early 
dawn, weak and puzzled, as he stared up in 
the doctor’s face. 


DICK 


133 


Where am he a&ked feebly. 

“With friends. Don’t worry, lad. Your 
first job is to get well. Shut your eyes and 
go to sleep again. Here’s a bit of ice.” 

And with the grateful coolness in his mouth 
and a vaguely reassured feeling that every- 
thing was all right though strange, Dick 
obeyed. When he awoke the second time it 
was full day with the sunlight flooding the 
room. Little by little the reality of things 
came back. He remembered the weary jour- 
ney over the dusty roads in deadly fear lest 
some one overtake and send him back to the 
troop and Jim, and with that ache in his chest 
getting sharper and sharper with every 
breath. All that day he had tramped, sick, 
exhausted, foodless, and at night had thrown 
himself to sleep in the grass on the shore of 
the lake. Toward morning he had wakened 
and crept up the Hill too sick to be afraid of 
capture. He had found the chance to slip 
into the big barn when no one was looking 
and had climbed into the loft where he had 
fallen into a heavy slumber. Here he had 
remained, waking in the early afternoon to 


134 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


an intolerable thirst and with an acute pain 
in his lungs. 

From this point his memory was confused, 
but he had a distinct if almost incredible 
impression of somebody with very big, bright 
eyes who brought him food and water and 
offered him a name because she thought he 
might get along better if he had two. 

That was as far as his recollection went. 
How he got into the quiet, cool room and into 
the soft white bed he had no idea nor did he 
know who the tall man was who sat dozing 
in the big chair by the window. Yet he 
felt vaguely that the man was a friend. In- 
deed he seemed to have a feeling he had 
heard him say so in the gray dawn. The 
voice had been kind, not at all the kind of 
voice Jim Bates used when he spoke. He 
stirred a little uneasily and in a moment the 
doctor was alert and on his feet. 

‘‘How goes it this morning he asked. 
“Eeady for breakfast? You look as if you 
were going to ask questions. Don’t. Save 
your energy for food, which will be on the 
spot shortly. You are better,” he added as 


DICK 


135 


his practiced fingers tested the boy’s pulse. 

‘‘May — ask — one — question!” Dick’s voice 
came out in queer jerks as if it had forgotten 
how to manage itself. 

“Just one,” permitted the doctor. 

‘ ‘ Did — I — dream — girl ? ’ ’ 

Dr. Phil laughed. 

“What, Tony! Not much. She is real 
enough, as you will see in a few moments. 
I’ll send her up with your breakfast.” 

The boy settled down comfortably and 
closed his eyes as if he had no more curiosity 
on any subject. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE SPELL OlP FAIRYLAND 

It was the morning of the fifth day of 
Jean’s sojourn in Fairyland. Miss Marjorie 
was sketching beneath a huge umbrella, but 
Jean lay absolutely idle and content, 
stretched at full length on the rocks, in the 
shadow of a boulder, watching the fishing 
schooners drift against the horizon and the 
great green waves roll in and dash in a 
shower of dazzling spray over the Giant’s 
Shoe. 

Presently Miss Marjorie looked up with a 
smile. 

‘‘What are you thinking about. Dor- 
mouse?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” Jean smiled back. “I guess 
I’m a lotus-eater. This is surely the land 
where it seems always afternoon. I’m aw- 
fully happy. Fairy Godmother. It has been 
a wonderful week. ’ ’ 


136 


THE SPELL OF FAIRYLAND 


137 


‘‘Hasn’t it? And you look all remade, 
Princess.” 

“Do I?” wondered Jean. “I feel as if 
the change wasn’t only on the outside either. 
I feel remade all through, as if I loved every- 
body and wouldn’t mind going back to dishes 
and beds and all the rest of it, and as if I 
were never, never, going to be horrid and 
cross again, as long as I lived.” 

Miss Marjorie laughed. 

“The spell of Fairyland,” she said. 

But Jean grew sober. 

“Oh dear, do you suppose it is only that?” 
she queried. “Do you suppose I’ll be just 
as horrid as ever when I get back home? I 
just won’t, so there. When I feel like say- 
ing sharp, hateful things, I’m going to shut 
my eyes and see lovely sea pictures, and 
that will make me remember the spell.” 

“Good idea,” approved Miss Marjorie. 
“Call it you have ‘suffered a sea change.’ ” 

Jean sat up and resting her chin in the cup 
of her hand surveyed her friend. 

“Miss Marjorie.” 

“Yes, Jeanie.” 


138 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


“Why did you like me at first? Or didn’t 
you like me but just thought I was so dread- 
ful somebody ought to take me in hand ? ’ ’ 

“Fairy godmothers have magic eyes. Of 
course I liked you, child. You let me look 
straight down into you that first day, and I 
saw all kinds of good and interesting things 
in there.” 

“But when you heard me snap at the 
others and saw me scowl and fret when 
things didn’t go quite my way, didn’t you 
think you had been mistaken, that there 
wasn’t anything worth bothering about in 
me?” 

“Quite the contrary. It only made me 
wonder what wicked witch had made a 
changeling out of the princess. Jeanie, dear, 
you were all tired out and what my old nurse 
used to call ‘hystericky.’ I knew the signs. 
I’d been there.” 

“ You ! ” incredulously. 

“Even I, and not so long ago. That was 
why I took a vacation this summer. I found 
my voice was getting an ugly rasp to it when 
the cleaning woman didn’t dust the studio 


THE SPELL OF FAIRYLAND 


139 


to suit me and I scowled at a child in the 
Public Gardens when he bumped into me run- 
ning after his ball. That was enough for 
me. I knew I had to have a holiday right 
away while I was still worth saving. A lot 
of our blues and woes are just physical, 
Jeanie — Jane. YouTl find that out some 
day.’’ 

Maybe that is partly true in my case,” 
admitted Jean thoughtfully. ‘‘But that 
wasn’t all the trouble,” she added hon- 
estly. 

“No, dear, it wasn’t. I don’t mean to 
keep you from seeing things perfectly 
straight. A good deal of it was your own 
fault, and you paid high for it and will pay 
for a long time to come.” 

Jean put both hands over her face to cool 
the scarlet flush. It was a different thing 
to accuse herself from what it was to accept 
censure from the person she admired most 
in the world. Suddenly she dropped her 
hands. 

“Is that all. Miss Marjorie? Please, say 
it all, right out. It’s hard to hear but I 


140 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


guess I can stand it, and I’d rather you 
would tell me just what the trouble with me 
is, so I can begin to be different.” 

Miss Erickson laid down her palette and 
came over to where the girl sat. 

<< There isn’t much the trouble, Jeanie, 
dear, ’ ’ she said. ‘‘It’s only that you had got- 
ten a bit out of tune so that you sounded a 
little jangly when anybody touched you. 
Wasn’t that it, Jeanie — Jane?” 

Jean nodded and put up a hand to wipe 
away a tear which would trickle down her 
nose. 

“And now you’re all nicely in tune again 
and it’s up to you, as Phil would say, to keep 
in that desirable condition. Think you can 
do it, little Princess?” 

“I don’t know,” said Jean soberly, “but 
I can try. It does seem as if I ought to stay 
in tune a long, long time after being so 
happy,” she sighed. 

There was a silence, during which Jean 
watched a gull dip and sweep against the 
clear blue of the sky. Presently she turned 
abruptly. 


THE SPELL OF FAIRYLAND 


,141 


‘‘Miss Marjorie, could we go home to-mor- 
row?^’ she asked. 

“To-morrow! Bless you, child, we have 
permission to stay until Monday. Don’t you 
want to?” 

“I do and I don’t,” said Jean looking out 
to sea. “I love it here, and I’ve had such a 
good time, but it’s Mother’s birthday, Sun- 
day, and I — ^well — I’d rather go home, if you 
don’t mind. I promise to stay in tune just 
as long as if I had had the extra two days.” 
She laughed a little tremulously as she 
turned to her friend. 

“Very well. Princess. I shouldn’t wonder 
if you were right. We’ll take the morning 
train and stop over in Boston long enough to 
buy presents for everybody and then sur- 
prise them by presenting ourselves Saturday 
night. ’ ’ 

This program being literally fulfilled, a 
very brown, rosy and radiant Jean startled 
her family by appearing on the scene as they 
sat at supper the next evening. 

“Why didn’t you stay until Monday?” de- 
manded Charley when the greetings were 


142 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


over. ‘‘Bet I wouldn’t have come home till 
the last gun was fired. ’ ’ 

“Guess I was homesick,” laughed Jean 
happily. “Anyway I was Mother sick,” and 
she smiled across the table at her mother with 
a light in her eyes which was eloquent of 
many things, things shy Jean would never 
find tongue to say. Perhaps Mrs. Lambert 
understood without words. At any rate, as 
she smiled back at her daughter Jean knew 
she would never regret the two days she might 
have had in Fairyland. 

Such a lot of news as they all had to ex- 
change ! The family had to hear the minut- 
est details of the traveler’s experiences, how 
she went past the “Reef of Norman’s Woe” 
of the “Wreck of the Hesperus^ ^ fame, how 
she went on board a really truly warship, how 
she climbed a lighthouse and made friends 
with the keeper’s daughter, who was just her 
own age and had lived on an island all her 
life, how Captain Azariah, Mrs. Baxter’s 
sailor husband, now retired, entertained them 
with strange adventures on land and sea, how 
the crabs nipped her toes when she was in 


THE SPELL OF FAIRYLAND 


143 


bathing, how they saw some whales spouting 
in the distance, how she and Miss Marjorie 
picnicked at Annisquam and met a lot of 
charming artist folk who all knew Miss Mar- 
jorie and praised Jean’s sketch, how they 
sailed across to the Isle of Shoals and got 
becalmed on the homeward trip and had to 
spend hours out on the water until a breeze 
sprang up to take them home; all these 
things, and many more, Jean had to tell. 
Perhaps she had never talked so much in her 
quiet life. Certainly she never talked so fast 
and happily, and certainly, too, she had never 
been listened to with such respect and envy. 

In return there was all kinds of home gos- 
sip to report, ending with the thrilling climax 
of Tony’s finding the ‘‘circus boy” in the 
barn. 

“We haven’t seen him yet,” said Charley. 
“But he isn’t a myth, for Tony plays back- 
gammon with him every day, and he tells the 
boys the most exciting yarns, almost equal 
to your Captain Azariah’s. He’s most well. 
Dr. Phil says he can come down-stairs next 
week. We are all crazy to see him. Guess 


144 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Granny Holiday isn’t much pleased, but Dr. 
Phil always gets round her somehow, I’ve no- 
ticed.” 

And so Jean came back from Fairyland, 
rested and refreshed, and fully determined to 
keep in tune if it was humanly possible. It 
wasn’t always easy. There were still bad 
days when things went sadly wrong and when 
the Fairy Princess snapped and sniffed quite 
as if the witch had gotten possession of her 
again. People do not make themselves all 
over in a week, and with the best of inten- 
tions it was uphill work. But with Miss 
Marjorie at hand to help, Jean did make 
progress, in spite of obstacles. Phil, too, 
seemed to understand magically, without be- 
ing told, something of what was going on in 
his sister’s mind and heart, and more than 
once he helped her over bad places with his 
whimsical good humor and open champion- 
age. Jean tried hard to meet him half way 
and not shut herself in so tight behind the 
wall of self, and in so trying found unex- 
pected delight in new comradeship with her 
brother. 


CHAPTEE XIV 


ENTEKTAINING EVELYN 

‘^Children, Evelyn Harding is coming to 
spend the day,’’ announced Mrs. Holiday, 
turning from the telephone. 

‘‘Who is Evelyn Harding?” asked Larry. 

Tony groaned. 

‘ ‘ She is the everlasting limit, if you ask my 
opinion,” she volunteered. “She was here 
the day you were at the circus and I found 
Dick. A few hours of her was quite enough 
for me. You boys can entertain her this 
time.” 

“Much obliged, but I propose to make my- 
self scarce,” said Ted. “I’m going fishing 
with Phil. You’d better come, too, Larry.” 

“You will all of you stay at home and en- 
tertain your guest,” observed Mrs. Holiday 
oracularly. “I expect you to make your- 
selves agreeable, too.” 

“Can’t be did,” objected Ted, the irrepres- 
145 


146 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


sible. ‘‘You know I couldn’t make myself 
agreeable if I tried. It’s much safer to let 
me go fishing, Granny.” 

“You heard my wishes.” 

“But I don’t want to stay at home and en- 
tertain a girl! Must I, Uncle Phil?” 

“Hold on, Ted. One set of orders is 
enough. No shirking either. Cheer up. Son. 
There are worse things in the world than 
girls.” 

“I don’t care,” fumed Ted, which meant 
that he did care and was thoroughly out of 
temper. “Bet she’ll be sorry I ever tried to 
entertain her,” he prophesied darkly as his 
grandmother passed out of hearing. 

Both boys fully agreed with Tony’s verdict 
that Evelyn was the “everlasting limit.” 
Their minds on that subject were made up 
from the moment the small guest descended 
from her mother’s car. Resplendent in 
polka-dotted silk, high-heeled white shoes, be- 
flowered hat and elaborate parasol, she was 
the living embodiment of what not to like in 
girls in the judgment of the young Holidays. 

“What in time are we going to do with 


ENTERTAINING EVELYN 


147 


demanded Ted disgustedly of his 
brother. ‘‘IVe a mind to cut, anyway.’’ 

‘‘You’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Larry 
sharply, having no wish to be deserted. “I 
guess I’m not going to stand this affliction by 
myself.” 

Affliction it proved to be. There seemed 
absolutely nothing the guest cared to do. 
Tennis was too strenuous. She despised cro- 
quet. She couldn’t walk because her heels 
were too high, and she didn’t think she would 
enjoy rowing because she might get freckled. 
Finally Tony persuaded her that the lake was 
quite shady if they kept near shore and that, 
in any case, her parasol would be a protec- 
tion. Phil and the twins were enlisted in the 
excursion and together they all descended the 
hill to the boathouse. Here Ted managed to 
maneuver things so that he was in the boat 
with the Lamberts, leaving Larry and Tony 
in charge of the guest. 

“Gee! Look at her make eyes at Larry. 
Bet he feels sick,” he grinned wickedly. 

“He looks bored to a frazzle,” giggled 
Clare. “Did you ever see such a goose in 


148 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


your life? Aren’t you glad we aren’t like 
that, Phil?” 

^‘I’d chuck you overboard if you were,” 
said her brother with conviction. ‘‘Great 
Scott, what’s the matter now?” 

“Evelyn thinks the sun is too hot,” called 
Tony. “We are going to land.” 

“And, when we land, a mosquito will dis- 
figure her beauty or a frog give her a connip- 
tion,” snitfed Ted. “Let’s not go in,” he 
added to Phil. 

“Come on,” ordered Larry from the other 
boat. There was a sharp edge to his tone, 
born of his morning of “affliction.” 

“Don’t have to,” was Ted’s slangy retort. 

“Yes, you do, too. Kemember what Uncle 
Phil said.” 

Ted shrugged but yielded sulkily. He had 
learned that Uncle Phil expected to be obeyed 
when he gave orders, just as Dad did. 

“Pull in, Phil. Beckon we’ve got to be 
martyrs to the cause, ’ ’ he groaned. 

The other boat reached shore first and here 
a new complication arose. Evelyn declared 
she never, no never, could climb out of the 


ENTERTAINING EVELYN 


149 


boat. She knew she would fall in the water. 

‘‘Oh, no, you won’t,^’ disputed Larry pa- 
tiently. “Here, give me your hand. ITl 
land you all right. 

But, unfortunately, he didn^t, and Tony, 
who had scrambled out of the boat and was 
already up the bank, turned in dismay as she 
heard a shriek and a splash and saw Evelyn 
up to her waist in the shallow water. 

“Oh, I’m drowning! I’m drowning! 
Somebody get my parasol quick!” cried Eve- 
lyn, torn between two emotional interests. 

“It floats,” quoted Charley dramatically, 
gazing fascinatedly after the rose pink treas- 
ure which stemmed the ripples gallantly like 
a new kind of boat. 

Larry and Tony drew the frightened and 
hysterical Evelyn to shore and Phil rowed 
after the parasol. 

“I’m awfully sorry,” apologized Larry in 
genuine distress. “I don’t see now how it 
happened unless the other boat hit ours. I 
thought it was perfectly steady.” 

“It wasn’t st-steady at all,” wailed Eve- 
lyn, “It t-tipped awful. I felt it. And my 


150 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


dress is sp-oiled and my shoes are all m-mud 
and my parasoPs lost and I want to g-go 
homeP^ And she sat down on the bank, a 
bedraggled and disconsolate bundle of woe. 

‘‘Don’t cry,” urged Tony. “We are all 
awfully sorry, and Phil’s got your parasol.” 
The other boat came along shore with Phil 
triumphantly brandishing his trophy. “We 
had better go home, though,” she went on. 
“You can put on some dry clothes and see 
what can be done for yours. Maybe the dress 
isn’t spoiled, and I’m sure the mud will come 
off your shoes.” 

This led to a new difficulty. Evelyn never 
wanted to get into a “h-horrid” boat again 
as long as she lived. 

“But you don’t want to walk home, do you! 
It is at least three miles through the 
woods.” 

Decidedly Evelyn didn’t want to walk 
home, and presently allowed herself to be as- 
sisted back into the boat, a feat which with 
Phil and Larry’s combined services was suc- 
cessfully accomplished. She was still, how- 
ever, “weepy” and aggrieved and loudly be- 


ENTERTAINING EVELYN 


151 


wailed the damage to her costume, especially 
to her beloved parasol. 

Anybody ’d think we did the whole thing 
on purpose,’’ said Charley in a low tone as 
the second boatload started off. 

Clare sent a funny little glance at Ted’s 
back as he bent over the oars, following 
Phil’s stroke. Then she began to talk ^‘deaf 
and dumb” fashion with her fingers, an ac- 
complishment the twins had learned and fre- 
quently found use for. 

^‘My goodness!” gasped Charley when she 
understood the message. ‘^Are you sure?” 
she whispered. 

‘ ‘ Sure as sure, ’ ’ Clare whispered back. ‘ ‘ I 
saw him.” 

Whereupon they both giggled delight- 
edly. 

‘‘What are you two up to, back there!” 
PhU turned his head to inquire isuspi- 
ciously. 

“Not a thing. We’re as meek as two lit- 
tle angels twiddling their thumbs,” protested 
Charley. “Clare just told me a joke, that 
was all.” 


152 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


This time it was Ted who turned, and, as 
he met the eyes of the twins, very solemnly 
winked, and the twins dimpled back in high 
glee and nefarious approval. 

By the time they reached the landing Eve- 
lyn was nearly dry again, though she was 
far from presenting the elegant appearance 
of a few hours earlier. Mrs. Holiday was 
scandalized at such methods of ‘‘entertain- 
ing^’ a guest and scolded Larry pretty 
sharply for his carelessness. As a rule, he 
did not fall so easily as the others beneath 
the ban of her disapproval, but this occasion 
proved an exception and he got the full force 
of her righteous displeasure. 

Evelyn was speedily transferred into some 
of Tony’s clothing and thus clad looked more 
“like a human being,” as Phil bluntly put it, 
than she had all day. In this new costume 
she managed, too, to pluck up a little power 
of enjoying herself and by the time her 
mother arrived to take her home she was 
really almost a normal little girl, and happily 
disposed to make light of the morning’s mis- 
adventure. 


ENTERTAINING EVELYN 


153 


Nevertheless, it was with considerable re- 
lief that the young people saw their guest 
ride away. 

‘‘I couldn’t stand many such days,” Ted 
burst out impulsively. 

His uncle smiled. 

^‘You showed your boredom rather too ob- 
viously for a model host, young man. I am 
afraid you are a shade too honest to be con- 
sistent with company manners.” 

Eather to his surprise Ted colored scarlet 
and made it a point to ‘^vanish” immediately, 
like the Cheshire cat. 

Wonder what he has been up to now,” 
pondered his uncle. ‘‘Some mischief, or I 
miss my guess. ’Ware Ted, indeed.” 

Later that evening he found Tony curled 
up in the hammock and looking very sober. 

“Here’s Miss Antoinette, 

And I’d easily bet 

She’s got some new woe, 

Or a grouchlet or so 

But I don’t know just what — no, not yet.” 

Thus he greeted her. 

“DonT tease. Uncle Phil,” she said as he 


154: 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


sat down beside her. ‘^I’ve really got a puz- 
zle. Why didn’t Granny like my mother?” 

He grew grave at that. 

“How do you know she didn’t?” he tem- 
porized. 

“Don’t hedge, Uncle Phil. I know. I’ve 
felt it lots of times. But to-day I heard her 
say something to Mrs. Harding that made me 
sure. Why shouldn’t she like my mother? 
She was lovely and good and sweet and won- 
derful. Everybody says so. And Daddy 
worshiped her.” 

“I know, dear. I believe she was all that. 
I never saw her but once, and I was only a 
boy at that, but I didn’t wonder at your 
father’s worshiping her. But Granny was 
brought up in a narrow old belief that all 
stage people must necessarily be somehow 
depraved. Your father’s marriage was a 
great shock to her. Try to understand how 
it must have grieved her with her prejudices 
and training and hereditary convictions. 
Your father has long since understood and 
forgiven any hardness she showed at the time 
of his marriage. He told me so the last time 


ENTERTAINING EVELYN 


155 


I saw him, and admitted that she had some- 
thing to forgive, too.’^ 

‘‘But she is just as hard now,’^ blazed 
Tony. ‘ ‘ She doesn T forgive. At least, I sup- 
pose she has forgiven Daddy, but she hasnT 
forgiven my mother for — ^being herself. 

Her uncle was silent. He knew that Tony 
had hit the truth, and it was a little hard to 
find the right thing to say to this clear seeing 
young judge. 

“Your mother and Granny belonged to two 
different worlds,'^ he said. “It will be for 
you to cross the bridge between.’’ 

“I don’t want to cross. Uncle Phil. I want 
to stay — over with Mother.” 

“Then you are being just as prejudiced in 
your way as Granny is in hers. Think that 
over, Tony.” 

“I don’t want to,” repeated Tony stub- 
bornly. 

He laughed at that. 

“You will, though. You are a fair-minded 
young person at heart, Antoinetta, and you 
are bound to build that bridge sooner or 


later.” 


156 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘I am going to boarding-scliool in the fall. 
Daddy said I might. And I won’t need to 
be — in Granny’s world,” she evaded. ‘MJn- 
cle Phil, I don’t mean to be horrid and un- 
grateful — truly I don’t. Granny is ever so 
good to me in her way. Only it always is in 
her way.” 

‘‘That is the way most of us like to be 
good to people,” he smiled. “Are you still 
liking your boy?” he changed the subject to 
ask. 

“Yes, I am. Don’t you?” 

“Yes, I think I do. He has a good deal 
to learn but he has the right stuff in him un- 
derneath. I have heard pretty much all his 
story now and I don’t see that any one has 
any claim on him, so there is no reason why 
he shouldn’t start over again under better 
auspices.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, Uncle Phil, you ’re such a dear ! And 
there is the clock striking ten, and I know 
you are going to say ‘bed.’ ” She sat up 
in the hammock and leaning forward put 
both arms around her uncle. “You are 
next best to Daddy of anybody in the world. 


ENTERTAINING EVELYN 


157 


and ITl think about the bridge/^ she 
promised. 

In a moment she was gone and he sat smil- 
ing into the darkness. 

‘ ‘ Confound Ned ! What business has he to 
have a girl like that when IVe neither chick 
nor child!’’ he muttered as he rose and went 
into the house. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE ROUND TABLE 

‘‘Dear me, it^s just too hot to breathe,’’ de- 
clared Charley, throwing down her magazine 
disgustedly. “Don’t see how you can bear 
to work, Jean.” 

Jean looked up from the sketch and shook 
her head. 

“I was having such a good time I almost 
forgot it was hot,” she admitted. 

“Hear, oh hear!” laughed Miss Marjorie, 
laying down her crocheting. “I’m afraid I 
am not such a triumphant demonstration of 
the supremacy of mind over matter.” 

“Wish I’d been born in the Middle Ages!” 
Clare emerged from “Ivanhoe,” to contrib- 
ute to the conversation. 

“Why?” asked Miss Marjorie. 

“Oh, I would have liked going to tourna- 
ments and seeing my knight carry my token 
to victory. ’ ’ 


158 


THE ROUND TABLE 


159 


‘ ‘ He ’d more likely get it all mussed up with 
his precious gore/’ put in Charley. 

wish I were a knight,” remarked Ted, 
flat on his back on the grass, gazing skyward, 
love scrimmages and blobs of glory.” 

^‘It takes more than scrimmages and blobs 
of glory to make a knight,” said Tony. 

‘^What does make a knight? Everybody 
has just one answer,” challenged Miss Mar- 
jorie. 

‘‘Strength,” promptly from Ted. 

“Courage,” more deliberately from Larry. 

“Honor,” said Phil. 

“Courtesy,” suggested Clare. “They 
were just as good to poor old women as to 
rich, beautiful ones.” ^ 

“A lady love.” This from Charley, who 
was romantic. 

“Purity,” said Jean, who adored Gala- 
had. 

“I can’t think of anything else,” sighed 
Tony. “You’ve said it all. Anyway, doesn’t 
chivalry cover it?” 

“Do you suppose any one person ever had 
all those qualities?” wondered Clare. 


160 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘ ’Course not,” said Ted. ‘‘They were 
just story-book people, not real ones.” 

“I don’t see why they couldn’t be real,” 
objected Tony. “I think they are, too. 
Uncle Phil is just as much a knight as any- 
body who ever went tilting round in tourna- 
ments and he does a whole lot more good, 
too,” loyally. 

“I guess there are plenty of live knights 
to-day. Only we don’t recognize them, be- 
cause they don’t wear armor,” meditated 
Clare. 

“I saw one yesterday,” announced Miss 
Marjorie. 

“Where! Who! What was he doing!” 
came the chorus. 

“I was coming up from the village,” re- 
plied Miss Marjorie, “and I saw an old, lame 
woman just ahead with a heavy basket. The 
knight overtook her on his bicycle and 
instead of riding by, he got off, took the 
basket, fastened it on his wheel and car- 
ried it all the way home for the old woman. 
Moreover, he lifted his cap to her as 
politely as if she had been the finest lady 


THE ROUND TABLE 


161 


in the land instead of his mother’s wash- 
woman.” 

‘‘Who was itl Oh, Phil!” As Charley 
caught sight of her brother’s rather abashed 
face. “That’s just like him. He’s always 
doing queer things.” 

“Like doing housework for me so I could 
run off to Fairyland,” put in Jean quickly. 
“He served like Gareth among the pots and 
pans. Guess you are right. Miss Marjorie. 
The knights aren’t all dead.” 

“Help!” groaned Phil. “ ’Tisn’t fair to 
pick on a fellow. Lemme ’lone.” 

“Let’s organize a Round Table,” suggested 
Clare. “I think it would be lots of fun.” 

“We couldn’t be knights,” objected her 
twin. 

“Well, we could be knightesses, anyway, 
couldn’t we. Miss Marjorie!” 

“Surely. It is a splendid idea, Clare. 
Let’s do it.” 

“I don’t want to be a knight,” declared 
Ted, fighting shy of his own wish, now knight- 
hood bade fair to be made a modern institu- 
tion, shorn, so far as he could see, of its 


162 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


scrimmages and blobs of glory. have 

to be too everlasting good. I haven’t a sin- 
gle knight-like quality, and I guess it’s more 
comfortable to be without ’em.” 

Everybody laughed at this frankly unre- 
generate point of view but Charley shook her 
head at him. 

^‘You’ll be sorry if you don’t join this or- 
der, Ted Holiday. We’ll give tournaments 
and pageants and — oh, all sorts of things. 
Won’t we, Clare?” 

Already Charley’s ready imagination was 
conjuring up wonderful visions. 

‘‘We can,” said Clare. “But I didn’t 
mean it just for a good time. I really think 
it would help us — other ways,” she finished 
shyly. 

“I hereby apply for membership,” said 
Phil, unexpectedly rallying to his sister’s 
standard. “I don’t mind trying to be a 
knight, though I won’t promise to succeed. 
I’m about as bad otf as Ted,” he admitted 
with a grimace. 

“I didn’t add my quality,” said Miss Mar- 
jorie. “It was humility. Bravo, Sir Philip. 


THE ROUND TABLE 


163 


There one knight for your order, Clare. 
Who else I Larry ? ^ ^ 

Larry looked up and there was trouble in 
his eyes. 

not — ^very — ^brave,’’ he jerked out, 
and had no idea he was being inordinately 
brave at the moment. Miss Marjorie stooped 
and gathered a pink clover blossom. ‘‘I 
wonder,’’ she mused, ^‘if a boy who is brave 
enough to refuse to do a thing he knows is 
wrong, no matter how much he is coaxed and 
teased for not doing it, can fall very far short 
in courage.” 

Larry flushed. Ted wriggled uncomfort- 
ably. Phil looked sheepish. The Fourth of 
July escapade with all its details was still 
fairly fresh in everybody’s mind. 

‘‘That is a different kind of courage,” said 
Larry after a moment. 

“A better kind. You are elected. Sir Lau- 
rence.” And the clover blossom fell beside 
his hand. 

“We all are, aren’t we?” asked Tony. 
“We can be knights even if we are girls, can’t 
we, Miss Marjorie!” 


164 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Of course you can. Girls need to culti- 
vate the knight-like qualities as much as boys 
do, sometimes more. We are all in it, aren^t 
we? Jean? Charley? Of course Clare is, 
because she started it.” 

“We are all in,” said Jean. “I like the 
idea. It will help me keep in tune,” she 
added more softly, and Miss Marjorie smiled 
back, understanding the message which was 
for her alone. 

“Well, Ted?” 

“I^m no good. I hate to improve myself. 
I’m not even decently honest. I dumped 
Evelyn Harding in the lake yesterday and 
let Granny scold Larry for it. I don’t want 
to be in your old Bound Table, anyway.” 
And Ted was on his feet and around the cor- 
ner of the house before any one fully realized 
the force of his confession. 

“My goodness! How dreadful!” groaned 
Tony. “What would Granny say?” 

“Don’t tell her,” said Larry. “I don’t 
mind now.” And another clover fell in his 
lap, and, looking up, he met Miss Marjorie’s 
approving eyes. 


THE ROUND TABLE 


165 


‘^Did anybody knowT’ asked Tony. 
never suspected.’^ 

“I did/’ said Clare. ‘‘I saw him tip the 
boat. Served her right anyhow for being such 
a silly stuck up — oh!” And Clare clapped 
her hands over her mouth. ‘ ^ Gracious ! This 
being a knightess is going to be some job,” 
she added, and the others laughed, though 
they secretly sympathized with her qualms. 

‘‘Let’s read ‘Sir Launfal,’ ” suggested 
Jean. “That will be a nice way to start, 
won’t it. Miss Marjorie?” 

Miss Marjorie agreed, and Charley ran oft 
to get the book. A few minutes later all was 
silent in the yard, save for Miss Marjorie’s 
low voice as she read aloud the beautiful Vi- 
sion. Nobody said anything as she finished, 
but not one of the group but was better for 
having listened to the poet’s message of love 
and service and beauty. And then the town 
clock broke the spell by clanging out six sharp 
strokes. 

“Oh my! It’s six o’clock already and 
table not set.” Clare sprang up and ran to 
the house, followed by her twin. 


166 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Larry and Tony fled hastily, mindful of 
uplifted eyebrows, if no worse penalty, ac- 
corded to tardiness at meals. Jean sat 
for a moment lost in revery, then she, too, 
rose. 

’Sense me. Miss Marjorie? I’ll go and 
help the twins as it is so late,” she said. 

*‘Give me that magazine, will you, Jean?” 
asked Phil lazily. 

Jean frowned a little and a retort quiv- 
ered on her lips. Then she smiled, stooped 
for the magazine, and came over and handed 
it to her brother. 

‘‘At your service. Sir Knight,” she said. 

Phil laughed, but had the grace to look a 
bit ashamed. 

“Score one, Jeanie,” he admitted. “ ’Bye, 
Miss Marjorie.” 

That evening as Miss Marjorie was lying 
out in her orchard hammock among the katy- 
dids and fireflies, she was surprised to see 
a head appear above the wall and still 
more surprised when Ted appeared beside 
her. 

“Please, I didn’t mean to be awfully rude 


THE ROUND TABLE 


167 


this afternoon/' he stammered. ‘‘But I said 
just what I meant. I'm always in scrapes, 
and I'll have to be too awfully ashamed of 
’em if I'm trying to be a knight and I can't 
stand it." 

Miss Marjorie laughed. 

“Teddy! Teddy! You have the cart be- 
fore the horse. Trying to be a knight is go- 
ing to help you to keep out of scrapes so you 
will have less repenting to do. Can't you 
stand that?" 

“Maybe. I'll try. I told Granny I tipped 
Evelyn in on purpose," he added, balancing 
up and down on his toes in the grass. 

“You did! Why, Ted, that was the most 
knight-like thing you could do. ' ' 

He grinned. 

“I guess Granny didn't see anything very 
knight-like about me. I got an awful lecture. 
Honest, Miss Marjorie, I couldn't help dump- 
ing her." 

He chuckled reminiscently, and Miss Mar- 
jorie concluded with some inner amusement 
that his penitence wouldn't bear too close in- 
vestigation. At least the main point was ac- 


168 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


complished, however. Ted had taken the 
blame on his own shoulders fair and square, 
exonerating Larry, and had also applied, in- 
directly, for membership in the Bound Table. 


CHAPTER XVI 


WATER ’scapes AND CONFESSIONS 

‘‘Gee, but the twins can dive!” ejaculated 
Ted admiringly as he watched, first Charley, 
then Clare, take a clean leap off the board 
into the deep water and come up, laughing 
and shaking the water out of their eyes. 

“We’re all amphibious beasts,” laughed 
Phil. “We learned to swim almost as soon 
as we learned to walk.” 

“Wish I had,” said Tony. 

“You swim all right for a girl,” he con- 
ceded. 

“Being a girl hasn’t anything to do with 
it. I only learned to swim two years ago and 
in a pool at that. I was merely thinking 
what a pity it was to have wasted so much 
time. ’ ’ 

“Measly shame,” Phil admitted. “How 
many of you can swim over to the is- 
land?” 

169 


170 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Can youT^ Ted measured the distance 
with his eye and Larry looked dubious. 

“Sure. IVe done it and back, too.’’ 

“Come on. Let’s all do it.” And Tony 
splashed off into the water like a frog. Ted 
was after her in a moment. 

“Coming, Larry?” he called back. 

“Guess not.” Larry’s tone was carefully 
indifferent. Not for anything would he have 
Phil suspect how he hated being out beyond 
his depth in the water. 

“Me neither. Too much like work.” And 
Phil rolled over in the sand to take a sun 
bath. Moodily, Larry watched the two bob- 
bing heads. The bare brown one was con- 
siderably ahead of the scarlet-capped one, for 
Ted was a swift swimmer. Presently the dis- 
tance began to lengthen more markedly be- 
tween the two swimmers, and suddenly, to 
Larry’s consternation, the scarlet head dis- 
appeared entirely from view. 

“Phil, can you see Tony?” 

Phil sat up and scanned the water with a 
hand shading his eyes. 

“Phil, I believe Tony’s given out,” called 



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WITHOUT A WORD PHIL FLASHED INTO THE WATER 


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WATER ’SCAPES AND CONFESSIONS 171 


Charley at the same moment from the board. 
‘‘I saw her go down.” 

Without a word Phil flashed into the water 
and shot out in the direction Tony had been 
swimming, making his way swiftly, with long 
even strokes. But Larry sat motionless, 
paralyzed, for a moment. Then, recovering 
his wits, he unlocked the boat and set out after 
Phil. 

Once Phil caught sight of the scarlet cap 
and redoubled his efforts, thankful he had his 
direction before the fleck of color vanished 
again. In what seemed to the watching twins 
an endless amount of time the hit of scarlet 
was again visible, and this time Phil was close 
beside it and Larry not far behind. Phil put 
out one hand and grasped Tony’s bathing 
suit and was very much relieved to catch 
a glimpse of wide open, frightened dark 
eyes. 

‘‘All right,” he gasped, having no breath 
for further speech. He did not even try to 
swim, just kept himself and Tony afloat until 
Larry was up with them. Between them the 
boys got Tony into the boat and she shut her 


172 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


eyes* and fell, limp and unconscious, in 
Larry’s arms. 

Phil took the oars and rowed as he had 
never rowed in his life to shore. Here he 
placed Tony face down in the sand and with 
the twins ' help applied first aid to the injured 
in most approved and modern Scout fashion. 
It was only a moment before she opened her 
eyes and they realized with relief that she 
was breathing naturally though a little gasp- 
ingly. Suddenly she sat up. 

^H’m all right,” she announced. ‘^Oh, 
Phil! Never so glad — see anybody — my 
life. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Mutual pleasure, ’ ’ said Phil, sitting down 
rather limply in the sand and wiping his fore- 
head where great beads of perspiration 
stood out. He didn’t care to think of what 
might have happened if he had been much 
later. 

By this time Ted swam in, prepared to 
rally Tony for giving out so easily and was 
considerably upset when the twins delivered 
the tale of the adventure, sparing him none 
of the harrowing details. Laurence stood 


WATER 'SCAPES AND CONFESSIONS 173 


by white and silent. Nobody paid any atten- 
tion to him. Phil was unmistakably the hero 
of the occasion. 

‘‘Gee, but I was glad to see you and the 
boat, Larry!" said Phil presently. “I was 
some tuckered out, and Tony wasn't precisely 
a help to locomotion." 

“I should say I wasn't. I felt made of 
lead. Thanks to you and Larry I'm — ^here.'^ 
Tony smiled a little tremulously at Larry, a 
smile which was a little too much for him. 
Tony didn't suspect that he had been afraid 
to swim out to save her. She was thanking 
him and he had been — a coward. 

Solemnly the procession went up the Hill 
and, little by little, on their arrival the thrill- 
ing story got told, the twins, being the least 
exhausted and impressed, doing most of the 
talking. Tony was straightway consigned to 
bed in spite of her protests that she was quite 
all right and under no necessity of being 
treated like an invalid. 

“You are a knight, all right," said Charley 
to Phil later at home. “Wish I could do 
something big like that. ' ' 


174 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Nonsense/^ said Phil. ‘‘Anybody would 
have done the same.’’ 

“But nobody did. I thought for a moment 
Larry wasn’t going to do a thing.” 

“He did the best thing he could have 
done,” said Phil heartily. “I don’t know 
just where I should have come out if he 
hadn’t been there with the boat in the nick 
of time.” 

“I don’t care, I think what you did was 
the knightiest,” declared Charley. “Don’t 
you. Mother P’ 

Mrs. Lambert smiled but did not answer. 
Perhaps she thought the “knightiest” of all 
was Phil’s generous dividing of the hon- 
ors. 

That evening Dr. Phil was called to visit 
a patient several miles out of town, and as 
he hurried off his eyes fell on Larry huddled 
into a rather disconsolate heap in the ham- 
mock, and invited him to come along for a 
drive. Somehow it struck the doctor that he 
didn’t know Larry as well as he knew the 
others. He wondered to-night, as the lad 
sat silent; beside him, just what was going on 


WATER 'SCAPES AND CONFESSIONS 175 


inside that quiet outer crust. That there was 
trouble of some sort he guessed shrewdly. 

‘^What is it, Larry?" he asked, suddenly 
turning on the boy and finding him off guard 
read utter misery in the gray eyes. ‘‘You 
are not brooding over that affair of Tony's, 
are you? She is all right, thanks tp you and 
Phil." 

“Thanks to Phil," corrected Larry stiffly. 

The tone made the doctor wonder if the 
boy could possibly be jealous of Phil's supe- 
rior meed of glory for the afternoon's adven- 
ture. In a moment, however, enlightenment 
came, unexpectedly. 

“Uncle Phil, I'm a coward. I was afraid 
to swim to Tony this afternoon." At last it 
was out, that hideous secret that had never 
before crossed the lad's lips. 

“What you did was quite as much to the 
purpose. You are not as expert a swimmer 
as Phil. I doubt if you could have done any 
good that way." 

“It isn't what I did. It's what I felt. I 
told you I was afraid." 

Dr. Phil bit his lip and wished hard for 


176 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


guidance. He realized that this was no mere 
boyish notion but a soul tragedy. 

‘‘Have you ever been afraid before T’ he 
asked. 

“Lots of times. Vve just made myself do 
all kinds of fool things so as to keep every- 
body from knowing I was afraid.^’ 

“That doesnT sound very cowardly, 
Larry.’’ 

But Larry would accept no mitigation of 
his own verdict. 

“Ted isn’t afraid of anything. He swam 
’way out to-day without a thought, and he 
used to ride all the crazy horses in the bar- 
racks that I was afraid to go near. And 
Tony isn’t scared of anything, either. She 
goes otf the diving-board without a bit of 
hesitation and I have to drive myself to it. 
I’m not like them, Uncle Phil. There’s no 
use pretending I am. They’re like father. 
I’m — a coward.” 

“I doubt it. See here, Larry. I believe 
you have let yourself get morbid over this 
thing. I don’t believe at heart you are any 
more a coward than I am. Eecklessness isn’t 


WATER ’SCAPES AND CONFESSIONS 177 


courage. Maybe Ted and Tony have more 
of that quality than you have, hut it doesn’t 
prove they have more of the real thing. Any- 
way, your cowardice has yet to be proved to 
me. The very quality of will which makes 
you dive even though you are afraid will 
come to your aid when you need it.” 

‘Mt didn’t to-day.” 

diagnose that rather differently. You 
were paralyzed for a moment by fright, not 
for yourself but for Tony. The moment you 
came to, you acted very sensibly and effi- 
ciently. It is quite possible Tony owes her 
life as much to you as to Phil. ’ ’ 

don’t know. Uncle Phil. I’d like to let 
myself out that way but I don ’t believe I can. ’ ’ 

^^The brave man isn’t the man who rushes 
unthinking into danger but the one who knows 
the risk and does his duty, fear or no fear.” 

^‘But I didn’t,” persisted Larry. 

^‘I believe you will next time. And, lad, 
you have shown more than once this summer 
that you have plenty of the finest kind of 
courage — moral courage.” 

Laurence looked up gratefully. 


178 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘^Does that really count? Miss Marjorie 
said so, but I wasn’t sure.” 

‘‘Miss Marjorie! Oh, the Bound Table 
business? Yes, Larry, you can bank pretty 
well on what Miss Marjorie says as being 
straight. Moral courage is one of the big- 
gest qualities in the world. Hang on to 
yours.” 

“Oh, Uncle Phil! You make me feel as if 
I might be some good after all.” 

“And high time. Promise me, Larry, 
you’ll get rid of this coward nonsense for 
good and all. If there is anything in it, fight 
it when the time comes. Until then, for- 
get it.” 

Larry drew a long breath. 

“All right. Uncle Phil. I’ll try. Any- 
way, you have made me feel a heap better. 
I didn’t see how I was ever going to be a sol- 
dier. ’ ’ 

“I doubt if your father intends either of 
you boys to follow his profession. There is 
going to be plenty of fighting to do wherever 
you are, though. I’m something of a fighter 
myself. Only I have to battle with germs 


WATER 'SCAPES AND CONFESSIONS 179 


and ignorance instead of Indians, ^ ' he 
smiled. 

‘'That's right," said Larry. “I never 
thought of it that way. I'd like to be a doc- 
tor, Uncle Phil." 

“I should like to have you, Larry. Put 
that idea away in your head and turn it over 
occasionally. It isn't a bad thing to have a 
notion or two about what we want to make of 
ourselves. Here we are. Will you come in 
or stay out with Gyp?" 

“Oh, I'll stay out, please." 

And outside, under the stars, Larry Holi- 
day sat and thought very hard. And some- 
how out of the night it seemed as if he gath- 
ered strength and a new hope and faith in 
himself. 

“If there is anything in it, fight it when 
the time comes. Until then forget it." 
These words of his uncle's he turned over and 
over in his mind. 


CHAPTER XVII 


BE. Phil’s poueth 

‘^Asleep, Tony?” Dr. Phil opened the 
door of his niece’s room to ask after he re- 
turned from his drive with Larry. 

‘‘No, indeedy. Wide awake as anything. 
I told you there was no sense in sending me 
to bed.” And Tony, sitting up with her 
hands clasped behind her head and her brown 
eyes dancing with excitement, certainly 
didn’t look very much like an invalid. 
“Come in, Uncle Phil. I’ve just got to talk 
to somebody. Ever since they put me here, 
somebody’s been saying ‘Don’t talk,’ till I’m 
nearly wild.” 

He came in and sat down on the bed be- 
side her. 

“I want to hear the story from your side, 
if you feel equal to telling it. Little girl, 
we have a very great deal to be thankful for 
to-night.” 


180 


DR. PHIL’S FOURTH 


181 


Tony nodded gravely. 

know, Uncle Phil. I’ve been thinking a 
lot as I’ve been lying here. People — ^hnman 
beings — are pretty small, aren’t they^ We 
think we are so strong and important and 
cocksure of ourselves. And then all in a 
minute we are just — nothing. I was having 
the loveliest time swimming. I felt as if I 
could go on forever and then my feet got 
tangled up in some weeds and I couldn’t kick 
and I got panicky feeling and awfully, awfully 
tired. I just couldn’t make myself work any 
more. I tried to keep afloat but I never 
learned how, very well. I always wanted to 
be swimming. Uncle Phil, I went down, 
clear down, twice, and the second time I 
thought I was drowning, and I just made my- 
self come up and there was Phil. Wasn’t he 
splendid, Uncle Phil?” 

‘^Yes, Phil is usually on hand in an emer- 
gency, and he is one of my star pupils in the 
first aid business. Tony, dear, do you re- 
member any one ever saying anything to you 
about not swimming too far?” 

Tony nodded meekly. 


182 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Yes, Uncle Phil. YouVe said it more 
than once, and Daddy wrote it. I guess I 
should have remembered sooner, but please 
don’t scold. Truly, I feel dreadfully small 
and humble.” 

“I am too thankful to have you safe to 
do any scolding. Besides, I think you have 
had a sufficient lesson on the folly of being 
foolish,” he smiled. “Did you eat any sup- 
per?” 

“I should say I did. Granny brought me 
in the loveliest trayful of things that she fixed 
herself for me. She was so sweet and kind 
and never scolded a bit, and, Uncle Phil, I 
’most know there were tears in her eyes when 
she kissed me good-night. I do believe she 
does care.” 

“Of course she cares, Tony. You must 
feel that.” 

“I did. I do. I put my arms around her 
— just like this — and neither of us said a 
word but I guess the bridge is in working or- 
der. ’ ’ 

The next morning when Dr. Phil was busy 
with letters in his office he heard a knock at 


BR. PHIL’S FOURTH 


183 


the door and in response to his invitation 
Dick entered, pausing half apologetically in 
the doorway. The boy had been down-stairs 
several days now and though still pale and 
thin and weak was quite well again. All he 
needed now was to build up strength with 
good food and fresh air. Dr. Phil had slung 
a hammock in the back yard and ordered him 
to stay still and get strong. The children 
came to talk to him frequently, especially 
Tony, who regarded him as her particular 
property and ‘^bossed’’ him and fussed over 
him and amused him according to her will. 
Mrs. Holiday had been inclined to put a stop 
to this growing intimacy but Dr. Phil had in- 
tervened. 

‘ ^ Tony will do him more good than he can 
possibly do her harm,” he asserted. ‘‘In- 
deed it is rather good for her to think of some- 
body beside herself.” And since the chil- 
dren were in his hands Mrs. Holiday acqui- 
esced albeit reluctantly. 

“Well, my lad, what can I do for you?” 
asked Dr. Phil, pleasantly. 

“May I talk to you a few moments?” 


184 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘^Certainly. Sit down.’’ And Dr. Phil 
indicated a comfortable Morris chair oppo- 
site his desk where he could watch the boy’s 
face. 

“I’m ’most well. I gotter go.” 

“Are you in a hurry to leave us?” 

Dick flushed. 

“ ’Tain’t that. I’d like to stay forever. 
But I can’t take charity. I ain’t that kind. 
I’ve gotter earn my livin’ some way.” 

“Eight spirit, Dick. I am glad you feel 
that way. When the time comes we will find 
work for you, but I should like to have you 
stay a week or two longer with us until I am 
satisfied you are perfectly strong. You 
aren’t fit to work yet.” 

“No more I ain’t,” grunted Dick. “I’m 
as wobbly as a new born calf. But I don’t 
see how I kin ever pay ye back for all ye’ve 
done,” he added. 

“Pay is of more than one kind,” said the 
doctor. “Some is money. Some isn’t. I 
don’t happen to need the money kind, but 
there is plenty you can do for me.” 

“What?” Dick leaned forward in the big 


DR. PHILOS FOURTH 


185 


chair and looked ready to promise anything. 

Dr. Phil opened a drawer in his desk and 
took out three photographs, and with them 
in his hand came round and perched on the 
arm of Dick^s chair. 

‘‘See these three chaps. I call them my 
boys. This one is earning his way through 
Dartmouth College. This fellow here has 
just finished his course in Medical School and 
has hung out a shingle of his own this sum- 
mer. This one — ’’ He lifted the third pic- 
ture and his voice softened. “This one is 
dead — gave his life to save a child’s. Fine 
fellows, every one of them. Don’t you 
think sof” 

Dick nodded, wondering just what the con- 
nection was between these three well-dressed, 
well-educated young men and his humble self. 

“This first one,” Dr. Phil went back, “was 
brought up in a saloon. He had no father, 
and his mother was the kind the least said 
about the better. I ran into him through 
some investigation work I was doing in Bos- 
ton. I happened to know of a man here in 
town who wanted a boy so I got him to come 


186 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


home with me. He was twelve then. He is 
twenty now — good student, champion pole 
vaulter and one of the finest, cleanest, young 
chaps you ever saw in your life. And the 
strongest thing about him is his loathing of 
drink in ail forms. I did very little for that 
boy, simply gave him a chance, and he was 
big enough to take it and make the best of 
it. He has paid me a thousand times over, 
and will again when he gets his shoulder to 
the wheel, outside college walls. He is a born 
reformer, and he’s going to fight King Alco- 
hol with every breath of his body.” 

Dick’s eyes were wistful as Dr. Phil laid 
down the photograph. 

‘H’d like to be somebody like that,” he 
said. 

‘‘Of course you would, and you can do it, 
too. Now here’s Max Storey — Dr. Storey 
now. I found him half frozen in the snow. 
He had run away from a beast of a step- 
father who had beaten him until he had no 
more spirit and life than a jelly fish. I got 
him home and doctored up his body. That 
was an easy job in comparison with healing 


DR. PHIL’S FOURTH 


187 


his mind and spirit. We finally got him to 
the point where he could hold up his head like 
a man but it took more than one year and 
a good deal of heartache all around. He 
stayed with us, as we needed a boy at the 
time. Late, he went to High School and got 
fascinated with chemistry and biology. He 
borrowed money to put himself through two 
years of college, then worked in a druggist 
shop and paid it back, studying medicine with 
a doctor friend of mine at the same time. 
Now he is a full-fledged physician and a very 
promising one. Incidentally, he is a man, 
every bit of him, with more character to the 
square inch than anybody I know. I am 
proud of Max.” 

The doctor laid down this photograph, too, 
and then took up the third, a picture of a 
handsome, clear-eyed lad of eighteen or so. 

‘‘This is Carey McCosh,” he said. “I 
made his acquaintance while he was still in 
reform school. I kept track of him, for I 
knew there was good stutf in him. As soon 
as he got out I found him a home with a sweet 
saint of a woman here in town, who loved 


188 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


him back into decency and self-respect and 
character. Keady enough he was to meet her 
half way, too. It was just recklessness and 
bad home training that had started him 
wrong. He was as sound as a nut at the 
heart. He was nearly through High School, 
an honor pupil and crack athlete and be- 
loved by everybody, when the end came. He 
snatched the little granddaughter of the lady 
he lived with from under some horses’ hoofs 
but he couldn’t save himself. He died a few 
hours later. I shall never forget the shine 
in his eyes as he whispered, H’m not afraid 
to die. Dr. Phil. I’m glad the baby’s all 
right, anyway.’ ” 

Dick snuffled a little and drew his hand 
across his eyes but he did not speak. 

‘‘Those are my three boys, Dick. They 
never one of them gave me a cent of money 
but you can judge for yourself if you think 
I’ve been paid for the little I was able to do 
for them. I am offering you the same chance 
they had. I’ll stand sponsor for you these 
next five years and if you turn out as well as 
the other three did I’ll ask no more of you. 


DR. PHIL'S FOURTH 


189 


How about it, Dick? Will you be my 
Fourth?" 

Dick caught his breath in a sound which was 
very like a sob. 

u me," he choked out. ‘‘Thank 

ye for tollin' me 'bout tothers. I'll remem- 
ber them. I'm sorter glad they started bad, 
too. Makes me feel 'sif there might be some 
show for me." 

Dr. Phil glanced at the bowl of white water 
lilies on his desk, which Tony always kept 
supplied with flowers. He reached over and 
drew out one, a great golden-hearted flower. 

“These grew out of the mud, Dick," he 
said. “It doesn't matter so much how you 
start. It 's how you end. ' ' 

‘ ‘ Guess that 's right, ' ' mused Dick. ‘ ‘ Jim 's 
folks had money and schoolin' but that didn't 
make him any more decent." 

He rose to go but lingered as if he had 
something still on his mind. 

“Well?" encouraged the doctor. 

“D'ye mind if I keeps the name the little 
girl give me? It's sorter silly but I’d kinder 
like to." 


190 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Dr. Phil considered a moment. 

‘‘I don^t see why you shouldn%’’ he said. 
‘‘It is a good name, Dick. Fine men and 
women have borne it. See that you keep it 
clean.’’ 

“That I will, damme if I don’t. Oh — !” 
And his face flamed crimson. “I didn’t 
mean to say that.” 

Dr. Phil smiled. 

“That is something you can begin to at- 
tend to right away,” he suggested. “And 
when you are a bit stronger I would try to 
get in some studying. I’ll get Larry to help 
you, if he will. I want you to be ready for 
school in the fall.” 

‘ ‘ School ! ’ ’ Dick ’s jaw dropped. 

“Surely. Don’t you want to go to 
school?” 

“Should say I did. Oh-h!” And, unable 
to stand the stress of his own emotions, Dick 
precipitately bolted. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE FAMILY CATASTROPHE 

Early in August, at Jean^s insistence, 
heartily seconded by Phil and the twins, Mrs. 
Lambert was sent oft for a few days^ holi- 
day with a beloved cousin in a nearby town. 
She departed willingly enough, feeling that 
with Jean in charge, possessed of her new 
patience and her old reliability, and with 
Miss Marjorie close at hand, things could not 
go very badly. 

It was the second day after her mother’s 
departure that Jean opened a letter which 
called forth an exclamation of consternation. 

‘^What is it? Anything wrong?” asked 
Charley, pausing, dustcloth in hand. 

‘‘Aunt Charlotte is coming!” announced 
Jean in tragic tones. 

“Aunt Charlotte! Jean, she canHV^ 
wailed Clare. 

‘ ‘ But she can. She ’s on her way now. The 

191 


192 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


letter should have reached here last night. 

Charley sank into a chair, fanning herself 
with her dustcloth. 

“Telephone for Mother!’’ she groaned. 
“We’ll never live through it alone.” 

“I don’t like to spoil Mother’s vacation,” 
dubiously from Jean. 

“I should say not,” emphatically from 
Clare. “We ought to be ashamed of our- 
selves to even think of it. It ’s the first vaca- 
tion she ’s had in years and I say we ’d better 
let her enjoy it in peace.” 

“So do I,” agreed Phil, emerging from a 
book to join the conference. “We’ll weather 
the storm somehow, with Jean at the helm.” 

Jean sent him a grateful smile. Phil was 
awfully nice to her since she came back from 
Fairyland and she appreciated it. 

“We’ll have to dust all over again the last 
min^e before she gets here,” said Charley. 
“She’d see a speck no bigger than a needle’s 
eye. She’s got the most awful eyes herself. 
I just hate her.” 

“Oh, Charley!” reproved Jean, half-heart- 
edly. “She’s Mother’s sister.” 


THE FAMILY CATASTROPHE 


193 


‘‘Only step/’ disclaimed Charley una- 
bashed. 

“Must have been a giant step at that,” 
laughed Clare. “They’re as different as dif- 
ferent. When’s she coming, anyway?” 

“This afternoon,” Jean consulted the let- 
ter to answer. “She gets in at a quarter of 
four. You’ll have to meet her, Phil.” 

Phil groaned but acquiesced. 

Later, at dinner. Aunt Charlotte’s visit 
was the chief topic of conversation and dire 
prophecy, viewed by all the younger mem- 
bers of the family as little short of a catas- 
trophe. 

“Don’t worry, Jean,” said Mr. Lambert 
as he left the house. “You will get on all 
right, I am sure. As for the rest of you, get 
into line and help all you can. ’ ’ 

“ We’ll be angels of mercy, 

Angels of light,’ ” 

promised Clare. 

“You’d better not sing to welcome the pil- 
grim or she’ll throw a fit,” warned Phil. 

“Honest, we’ll be awful good,” seconded 
Charley. 


194 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


^‘ITl let Aunt Charlotte hold my kittens/’ 
contributed Eleanor, which generous proffer 
was received with glee by the rest of the fam- 
ily, and the wholesale laughter cleared the 
rather dense air. 

By two-thirty the house was in ‘^apple-pie 
order and everything ready for supper so 
far as the meal could be prepared in ad- 
vance. 

<< There! There isn’t another ghost of a 
thing to do, so far as I can see,” said Clare. 
^‘Do go and rest, Jean. You look tired to 
death. Charley and I are going for a pad- 
dle to revive our spirits. We’ll get some 
flowers.” 

‘‘All right, only do get back in season to 
receive Aunt Charlotte. She would never 
forgive us if we weren’t all lined up to meet 
her. Eleanor, go and get in your bed this 
minute. You ought to have been napping 
long ago. Phil, don’t forget to go to the sta- 
tion on time.” 

And, having delivered her last instruc- 
tions, Jean fled to her room for an hour’s 
rest and was soon fast asleep. Eleanor, how- 


THE FAMILY CATASTROPHE 


195 


ever, did not find sleep so easy. After wait- 
ing a due interval for Nature’s sweet re- 
storer to appear she climbed out of bed and 
went down-stairs. Not a soul was visible, 
and suddenly she conceived the notion that it 
would be a delicate attention to Aunt Char- 
lotte to make her some fudge. She had made 
candy several times under the twins’ super- 
vision and felt perfectly equal to the task. 

‘‘ ’Course, I can make it. I know the 
recipe just as well’s I know my five tables. 
Two cups sugar, two squares choc ’late, half 
cup of milk, butter size of an egg,” she 
chanted softly as she went about her prepara- 
tions. ‘‘Hope Jean will stay asleep. She 
never lets me do things, and I just know I 
can make fudge. Won’t Aunt Charlotte be 
s ’prised?” 

She started her concoction cooking over 
the gas stove with the flame at full blaze, but 
as the mixture did not melt instantaneously 
she grew tired of waiting and ran to play 
with her kittens for a few moments. One 
of the flutfy mites had crawled out of his 
basket and ambled off somewhere and it took 


196 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


a good ten minutes to find the fugitive. The 
result of the intermission in fudge making 
was Jean’s sudden awakening to a sickening 
smell of burning chocolate. She flew down- 
stairs to discover a discouragingly sticky and 
mal-odorous mass seething over her clean gas 
stove. 

The twins were invisible, but to Jean’s hor- 
ror she heard steps on the piazza and Phil’s 
voice calling, ‘‘Where are you, Jean! Aunt 
Charlotte’s here.” She sent a dismayed 
glance at the clock. It was only three-thirty. 
Wasn’t it for all the world like Aunt Char- 
lotte to be ahead of time! Phil stuck his 
head into the kitchen. 

“Schedule’s been changed. Luckily I dis- 
covered it in time or she’d have had spasms 
at not being met. My word ! What a mess ! 
Phew!” And Phil backed out, shutting the 
door behind him. 

Jean smoothed her rumpled hair hastily 
before the little mirror, and with flushed 
cheeks and woeful consciousness of her un- 
tidy appearance went to meet her aunt. 

“What is burning!” sniffed the latter as 


THE FAMILY CATASTROPHE 


197 


soon as she had deposited a peck of a kiss 
on her niece’s hot cheek. 

‘ ‘ N othing, ’ ’ said J ean. ‘ ^ At least not now. 
Something was.” 

should say so. So this is the fine house- 
keeping I’ve heard so much about. For 
mercy’s sake! What a dirty child!” For at 
this point Eleanor made her appearance, with 
a kitten under each arm, and face and dress 
besmeared with chocolate. 

‘^Jeanie, my fudge all burned up!” she 
wailed, running to hide her face in Jean’s 
dress. 

‘‘You’d no business to be making fudge!” 
snapped Jean crossly. “March upstairs this 
minute. You’re a naughty, naughty girl.” 

“Don’t want to march!” screamed Elea- 
nor, the unfortunate word and the harsh tone 
proving like a red rag to a bull. 

Phil could hardly help bursting into a peal 
of laughter. Jean’s anger, Eleanor’s un- 
usual bad behavior, and Aunt Charlotte’s ex- 
pression of scandalized disgust, were almost 
too much for his self control. 

“Shoo fly, you infant,” he ordered, com- 


198 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


ing to the rescue. ^‘Race you to the bath- 
room/’ and Eleanor permitted herself to be 
persuaded to disappear. 

‘‘I just wanted to make fudge for Aunt 
Charlotte,” she explained, as Phil wiped off 
the sticky rivers, compounded of tears and 
chocolate, from the small perturbed face. 
^‘Jean needn’t have said I was naughty. I 
wasn’t naughty — ^not the leastest bit.” 

“My 0!” grinned Phil cheerfully. “You 
can’t always tell from appearances whether 
folks are naughty or not. Don’t you be both- 
ering Jean. She has her hands full.” 

“I suppose at least I can be shown to my 
room,” Aunt Charlotte was saying in the 
martyred tone the young Lamberts always 
found particularly obnoxious. 

“Why, yes,” began Jean. “Come right 
up — ” 

But just then Clare appeared in the door- 
way with her arms full of goldenrod and look- 
ing sweet and dainty and amiable enough to 
make up for the rest of the family. Unfor- 
tunately, before this impression had a chance 
to sink in, the dining-room door opened and 


THE FAMILY CATASTROPHE 


199 


Charley stood on the threshold, stocking- 
footed, dripping muddy water from head to 
foot. 

^^Jean, I fell overboard — oh, Aunt Char- 
lotte, I didn’t know you were here. ’Scuse me 
if I don’t come any nearer. I’m a little 
muddy. ’ ’ 

‘‘For Heaven’s sake, don’t come near!” 
Aunt Charlotte drew back her silken skirts 
in horror at the bare idea of such contamina- 
tion. “How did you ever get in such a 
state?” 

“Tried to get some lilies while Clare got 
goldenrod on shore,” explained Charley 
cheerfully. “I leaned over a mite too far, 
that’s all. I’m going up the back stairs, 
Jean.” 

“For mercy’s sake, I don’t see how Marian 
dares leave you a minute. I never saw such 
dreadful children. Clarissa — if you are 
Clarissa — you seem to be the only one in your 
right senses. Will you be so good as to es- 
cort me to my room? Don’t come near me 
with that goldenrod, though. It gives me hay 
fever.” 


200 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Clare laid down her burden and as she fol- 
lowed her aunt up-stairs turned to bestow 
what was intended as a comforting wink upon 
poor Jean. As soon as they were out of 
sight Jean, too, mounted the stairs and found 
Phil ^‘valeting” Eleanor into a clean white 
dress, as he described the process. 

Don’t scold, Jeanie,” begged Eleanor. 
‘‘Phil says I oughtn’t to have made fudge, 
but I didn’t mean to be naughty.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” groaned Jean. “We 
are all in disgrace except Clare. I hope you 
are still in favor, Phil.” 

“Can’t say as to that, mum. But I shan’t 
stay in favor if she pitches into you about 
once more, that’s certain.” 

Which belligerent threat soothed Jean sur- 
prisingly, and brought a faint smile to her 
lips as she ran off to her own room to make 
herself presentable at last. 


CHAPTER XIX 


SOME MOKE OF THE SAME AND LAKRY 

Fifteen minutes later when Jean came 
down-stairs, rehabilitated and mentally for- 
tified by cold water and a change of raiment, 
she found Phil waiting for her below, loung- 
ing in the window seat. 

‘‘Keep a stitf upper lip, Jeanie,’’ he ad- 
vised. “And don’t you care how that old 
crank — ” But here he broke oft hastily, for 
as luck would have it Aunt Charlotte was at 
the moment descending the stairs with Clare, 
a dutiful page, at her heels. 

“Upon my word!” ejaculated the incensed 
Aunt Charlotte. “So I am to be insulted in 
my own sister ’s home I ’ ’ 

Phil’s face was scarlet but he saved the 
day gallantly. 

“I was talking about the ice cream 
freezer,” he lied gamely. “If that’s insult- 
ing, why — ” He broke off and Clare nearly 
201 


202 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


imperiled the newly rescued day by a fatal 
giggle but stuffed her handkerchief over her 
mouth instead. 

‘‘H-mp!^’ grunted Aunt Charlotte suspi- 
ciously. But she condescended with some de- 
gree of graciousness to allow Clare to escort 
her to a comfortable rocker on the porch and 
provide her with the evening newspapers and 
a palm-leaf fan. Whereupon her niece fled, 
murmuring an excuse about supper, and 
joined Jean and Phil in the dining-room. 

‘‘Phil, you’re a gem of purest ray serene. 
I never heard a neater whopper.” 

Phil grinned but looked a little ashamed. 

“I had to say something, didn’t I! I 
couldn’t let Mums be hopelessly disgraced be- 
cause I hadn’t the sense to keep a civil tongue 
in my head. I’d have liked to tell her the 
whole blessed truth, ’ ’ he added. ‘ ‘ Now, then, 
Jean, what can I do?” 

“Nothing but keep one eye on Eleanor and 
the other on Aunt Charlotte.” 

“I’ll be cross-eyed sure if I do that lat- 
ter,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m a 
sworn in martyr, so here goes.” 


MORE OF THE SAME AND LARRY 203 


Supper went of£ fairly well. A kind of 
chastened caution pervaded the household, at 
least its younger members, and Aunt Char- 
lotte would have been hypercritical indeed, 
to have found any fault in Jean’s delicious 
rolls and chicken patties and amber tea. 
When the cake was cut Phil happened to take 
the first taste and hastily took a swallow of 
water, trying at the same time to signal J ean. 
Too late! Aunt Charlotte had taken a gen- 
erous bite and was already choking and gasp- 
ing. Clare, feeling responsible as the perpe- 
trator of the cake, took a cautious nibble. 

‘‘Salt!” she gasped. “Look out, every- 
body. Goodness, Jean ! I didn’t put in that 
much. I know I didn ’t. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ My fault, ’ ’ groaned Charley. ‘ ‘ I emptied 
the salt bag into the sugar bucket by mis- 
take and forgot to clean it out. I’m awful 
sorry.” 

“Never mind. Bring us some cookies, 
Clare. We’ll skip the cake course,” and Mr. 
Lambert’s reassuring smile was balm to the 
three mortified housekeepers. 

“If this is the way Marian trains her girls, 


204 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


I tremble for their husbands/^ observed 
Aunt Charlotte tartly, still making grimaces 
over that unfortunate first taste of cake. 

‘‘Glad she thinks we are going to have hus- 
bands. More ’n she ever got, ^ ’ retorted Char- 
ley inwardly. 

‘ ‘ Oh, the girls are fine little housekeepers, ’ ’ 
said Mr. Lambert. “You must stay long 
enough to see how well they get along usually. 
You evidently happened in on an unlucky 
day,” he smiled comfortably. 

To the relief of all. Aunt Charlotte an- 
nounced her intention of retiring early that 
evening, and after she had gone up-stairs 
Jean poured out the whole tragic tale of mis- 
adventures in her father’s ears. 

“Cheer up, Jeanie. It has been a bad be- 
ginning, but I don’t see that any of it was 
very much anybody’s fault and certainly not 
yours. Just make the best of things and you 
will come out all right. ’ ’ 

“Anyway she can’t accuse us of being 
fresh with her, after that cake,” chuckled 
Phil. 

“Jean! Clarissa! Charlotte! Come here 


MORE OF THE SAME AND LARRY 205 


this moment!’’ pealed a shrill voice from the 
upper regions. 

The girls rushed up-stairs to their aunt’s 
room and met Eleanor coming out with woe 
on her face and her arms full of kittens. 

‘^She sat on my dar hugest kittens an’ I’m 
’fraid they’re squashed,” she lamented 
loudly. ‘‘An’ she frew ’em out the door.” 

Aunt Charlotte was close behind, clad in a 
purple kimono and with her hair twisted into 
a tight knot, minus the “front.” Her ex- 
pression betrayed extreme high dudgeon. 

‘ ‘ This is a little too much ! I found those 
disgusting creatures in my chair. I never 
heard anything so disgraceful in my life. I 
simply can’t abide cats.” 

“She frew ’em out the door,” repeated 
Eleanor, quite as indignant as her aunt. 

“Eleanor, did you put your kittens in 
Aunt Charlotte’s room?” demanded Jean. 

“No, I didn’t. They were on the foot of 
my bed.” 

“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Clare. “They 
must have found Aunt Charlotte’s door open 
and wandered in and made themselves at 


206 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


home. It^s a shame, Auntie. You are hav- 
ing a dreadful time, and we are awfully 
sorry. ’ ’ 

‘‘ You^d better be. You seem to he the only 
one here who has any sense or manners. You 
may come .and rub my head with aromatic 
spirits of ammonia. I’m all upset, and no 
wonder. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Whew ! I ’m thankful it ’s you who ’ve got 
the sense and manners,” whispered Charley 
as they filed out. “Your reward is alto- 
gether out of proportion to your virtues,” she 
giggled when they were safely out of hearing. 

“Where is the ammonia, Jean?” asked 
Clare resignedly. “Bet I’ll spill it down her 
neck or something.’^ 

But she didn’t, and in fact she managed to 
minister so well to her aunt’s needs that the 
latter went to sleep quite mollified. 

In the meantime Jean soothed Eleanor’s 
wrath and comforted her with the assurance 
that the kittens did not appear to be appreci- 
ably damaged by the strenuous treatment to 
which they had been subjected, while Charley 
escaped down-stairs to regale her father and 


MORE OF THE SAME AND LARRY 207 


Phil with the latest chapter in the day’s tale 
of woes. 

‘‘I only hope she has been made miserable 
enough so she’ll take the first train in the 
morning,” she concluded. 

”Well, I don’t,” said Jean, coming in. 
‘‘Mother would feel dreadfully if she went 
away thinking we were such a set of heathen 
as we’ve looked like to-day. I hope she’ll 
stay and find we are really a pretty decent lot. 
Things like this don’t happen once in a blue 
moon, do they. Daddy Lambert!” 

“Not once in a cherry-colored one,” he 
agreed laughing. ‘ ‘ That ’s the spirit. Captain 
Jean. Now to bed every last one of you, be- 
fore anything else can happen.” 

As a matter of fact, the rest of Aunt Char- 
lotte’s stay was unmarred by untoward acci- 
dent of any kind, and she was forced rather 
grudgingly to admit to her sister when the 
latter returned that “they were not such bad 
children, after all.” Which, considering the 
source, Mrs. Lambert concluded was quite 
lavish praise. Her husband’s verdict was 
considerably more enthusiastic. 


208 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘ ‘ They were trumps, Marian, every one of 
them. You couldn’t ask anything more 
heroic than the way the whole bunch rallied 
around Jean. I doubt if they could have 
borne the strain of it three months ago and 
stood by you and each other the way they 
did.” 

suspect the Round Table has something 
to do with that,” said Mrs. Lambert. ‘^They 
have grown a good deal this summer.” 

And, as it happened, over across the street, 
the Round Table was undergoing another 
test. Dr. Phil sat at his office desk while 
Larry slouched moodily in the big chair op- 
posite. 

don’t want to do any tutoring this sum- 
mer, Uncle Phil. It’s vacation. Wait until 
fall and I’ll help Dick, if he’s got to be 
helped, ’ ’ ungraciously. 

‘‘Lazy Larry!” commented his uncle with 
a humorous twinkle. Then he sobered. 
‘ ‘ See here, Larry, how would you like to swap 
places with Dick? How would you like to 
have had scarcely a year’s schooling all to- 
gether — to hunger for education with all your 


MORE OF THE SAME AND LARRY 209 


might and find it always just out of reach! 
How would you like to be fifteen and barely 
ready for the seventh grade!’’ 

“Wouldn’t like it,” said Larry shortly. 
“But I don’t see any use in imagining things. 
I’m not Dick Nobody. I’m Larry Holiday.” 

“Granted. You and Dick are pretty much 
what circumstances have made of you, and, in 
some ways, they have done better with Dick 
than they have with you.” 

That stung. Larry sat up. 

“What do you mean. Uncle Phil!” he de- 
manded. 

“Dick is neither lazy nor selfish. You are 
both, rather often.” 

Larry flushed and fell to studying the pat- 
tern of the rug. 

“You are very much interested in seeing 
that Larry Holiday gets what he wants in this 
world. I’d like to see you a shade more con- 
cerned about the other fellow.” Dr. Phil’s 
tone was a little stem, and Larry wriggled 
under it. 

“I’m no worse than Ted,” he retorted 
somewhat aggressively. 


210 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘I don^t know that that has anything es- 
pecial to do with the matter in hand, but, 
since you mention it, I have noticed that Ted 
is considerably more thoughtful of Dick’s 
feelings and more willing to draw him into 
the good times than you are. I’ve also no- 
ticed a few incipient signs of first-class snob- 
bishness in Larry Holiday, and when I’ve 
seen them I have felt inclined — to operate. ’ ’ 

Larry got up and walked over to the win- 
dow, gazing out into the starlit night. Pres- 
ently he turned and came back to where his 
uncle sat. 

‘‘You hit pretty hard. Uncle Phil,” he said 
gruffly. 

“I know I do, Larry. It is because I think 
you are worth hitting hard that I do it. If I 
thought you were no better than you have 
shown yourself on the surface to-night, I 
don’t know that I should bother to give you a 
chance to redeem yourself. Remember, I do 
not in the least insist upon this tutoring busi- 
ness. But I should be glad for Dick’s sake 
and for yours if you decide to help him. Will 
you think it over, Larry?” 


MORE OF THE SAME AND LARRY 211 


Larry nodded, and his uncle couldn’t quite 
decide whether he was still sulking or not. 

“Do you know what the Bound Table motto 
is?” asked the boy suddenly and unexpect- 
edly. 

Dr. Phil smiled a little and bent to examine 
the handle of a paper knife which lay on the 
desk before him. 

“I heard it was ‘I serve.’ Is that it, 
Larry?” He looked up and met the direct 
gaze of the clear gray eyes. Again the boy 
nodded. “I didn’t intend to rub my point in 
quite so hard. You are taking a shot at your- 
self, young man.” 

“I know,” admitted Larry. “I meant to. 
Uncle Phil, I don’t need to think it over. I’ve 
decided — to help Dick.” 


CHAPTER XX 


DISAPPEAKANCES 

So it happened that Dick became officially 
Larry’s pupil, and the two boys spent two 
hours, at least, daily, with books, besides the 
weary time when Dick wrestled alone or had 
Tony ‘‘give out” spelling words and correct 
his speaking vocabulary. He was patheti- 
cally anxious to “talk like folks,” and pains- 
takingly pruned and adjusted the language 
at his command with this end in view. Slow 
and tedious as the process was, he did make 
some progress, and Larry found him far 
from being a dull pupil. Both boys were the 
better for the work together, and Dr. Phil, 
watching out of the corner of his eye, con- 
cluded that he would not have to “operate” 
again on his nephew. 

Dick was quite well again now and had 
found a “job” helping Sam Jewett with 
chores and other like work about the farm, 
212 


DISAPPEARANCES 


213 


though Dr. Phil kept a sharp outlook on him 
and would not permit heavy tasks of any kind. 
So things went on happily until a crisis ar- 
rived. 

One morning, directly after breakfast, Mrs. 
Holiday summoned her three grandchildren 
to the library. Her face was so stern each 
one wondered what the others could have been 
doing. It was evident there was trouble 
brewing for somebody. They filed into the 
library and were not exactly relieved to find 
their uncle there, looking grave and troubled. 
It was obviously a family conference of some 
ominous significance. Mrs. Holiday gave 
each, in turn, a severely scrutinizing glance. 
‘^Enough to make you look guilty if you 
weren’t,^’ Ted said afterward. 

‘‘Children, I have lost some money — a five 
dollar bill which I laid on my desk last night 
about five o’clock. After supper it was not 
there. Do any of you know anything about 
itr’ 

“Haven’t seen it.” “ ’Course not.” 
“Not a thing,” came the instant response. 
“Granny, you don’t think any of us would 


214 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


take money that didn^t belong to us, do you?” 
Larry added a little indignantly. 

‘‘No, I couldn’t believe that, but the disap- 
pearance is very peculiar and I wanted to be 
sure none of you knew anything about it.” 

“I remember seeing a bill on your desk be- 
fore supper,” said Larry, “while I was work- 
ing with Dick. How funny! Wonder where 
it could have gone. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Holiday shot a significant look at her 
son. 

“You were here with Dick, before supper?” 
the latter asked, addressing Larry. 

“Yes. What makes you look so queer. 
Uncle Phil? You don’t think Dick took it?” 

“I don’t want to think so,” emphatically. 

“But he couldn’t. I was right here with 
him until — ” He broke off abruptly. 

“Until when?” pursued his uncle. 

“I’d rather not say.” 

“I insist upon your answering,” sharply 
from Mrs. Holiday. 

But Larry’s mouth shut like a steel trap. 

“Dick never took it!” flashed Tony. 
“You needn’t try to make us think he did! 


DISAPPEARANCES 


215 


Just because he’s poor and has nobody to 
stand up for him, you think you can accuse 
him of everything! I think it’s mean — 
mean!” hotly. 

Mrs. Holiday looked as if she didn’t know 
which she would like to chastise more, her 
stubborn grandson or her impertinent grand- 
daughter. 

‘ ^ That will do, Tony. ’ ’ Dr. Phil spoke with 
rare sternness. ‘‘We are not accusing any 
one at present, but we must know the facts. 
Don’t you see, Larry, that your keeping still 
cannot help Dick’s case any? You were with 
him until when?” he harked back. 

Larry bit his lip, but beneath his uncle’s 
kind but compelling gaze decided he might as 
well give in. 

“I was with him until the bell rang and I 
went off in a hurry because I wasn’t ready 
for supper.” 

“Leaving Dick here alone?” 

“Yes, sir,” reluctantly. 

“There, I knew no good would come of 
taking in a mere tramp like that. He is no 
better than a common thief. ’ ’ 


216 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Granny, I don’t think that’s a bit fair,” 
said Larry. ‘ ‘Just because he was alone with 
the money doesn’t prove he took it, does it, 
[Uncle Phil?” 

“It certainly makes it a little harder for 
him to prove himself innocent. Yet I, for 
one, can hardly believe him guilty. ’ ’ 

“Well, I can, very easily. What can you 
expect of a low — ” 

“He isn’t low!” blazed Tony. “And I 
know he didn’t steal your old money, and I’ll 
never, never forgive you if you tell him he 
did!” 

“Antoinette, you forget yourself! Leave 
the room at once ! ’ ’ 

And Tony flounced stormily out of the 
room in obedience to her grandmother’s in- 
censed command. 

“I have no doubt that the boy took the 
money,” continued Mrs. Holiday dogmati- 
cally. “Will you speak to him, Philip, or 
shall I?” 

And just then the subject of the discussion 
appeared in the doorway. 

“Good morning. Larry, did I leave my 


DISAPPEARANCES 


217 


arithmetic book over here, last night he 
asked. 

Larry sent him a queer, straight look. 

‘‘It’s on the desk,” he answered, and shot 
out of the room, followed hastily by Ted. 
Guilty or not guilty, neither had any desire 
to see the other lad badgered before that 
tribunal. 

Dr. Phil went straight to the point. He 
told of the disappearance of the money and 
the damaging fact that Dick himself had been 
the last person in the room with it, so far as 
was known. Dick turned scarlet, then deadly 
white. 

“Dr. Holiday, ye — you think I took it?” he 
asked after a minute. 

“I have to ask you a question first, Dick. 
Did you take it?” 

“I did not,” Dick replied. The answer 
was low but firm and perfectly distinct. “I 
saw it there on the desk. I remember now. 
But I didn’t touch it.” 

Dr. Phil stood silent, perplexed, watching 
the boy’s face. 

“I suppose you think I done^ — did it?’^ 


218 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


The boy then turned to Mrs. Holiday to 
ask. 

certainly do/^ coldly. 

“Well, I didn% but I can’t prove I didn’t. 
I’ll turn over the three dollars and nineteen 
cents I’ve earned and — and git.” He choked 
a little as he turned away. 

Hr. Phil came over and put a kind hand on 
the boy’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be hasty, Dick, and don’t leave us 
in anger. We don’t want your money. We 
want only to believe in you. ’ ’ 

“Wal, ye can’t,” bitterly, relapsing into the 
old lingo. 

“I’d like to try. I’d like to say this min- 
ute, ‘ I believe you, Dick. ’ ’ ’ 

“But ye can’t?” It was a question this 
time, with a little wistful note in it. 

“Not quite, Dick. I’m sorry. See here, 
lad, if you did yield to the temptation of the 
moment you will be none the worse off for 
owning up. You needn’t be afraid to tell the 
truth. I am asking you just as I would ask 
Larry or Ted. ’ ’ 

“You’d have believed them the first time,” 




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DISAPPEARANCES 


219 


Dick shot back a little resentfully. ‘‘I have 
told the truth. I — I dl go. ’ ^ 

‘‘One moment, Dick. Look at me, lad. I 
do believe you now absolutely. I’m sorry I 
doubted you before. Forgive me.” 

The tears sprang into Dick’s eyes. 

“You’re — you’re white, that’s what. 
Thank ye, but I couldn’t stay. The others 
won’t believe me. What’s the use?” 

“Tony and I believe in you, and Larry just 
put up a splendid defense for you. The only 
way you can prove it to the others is by living 
it down. Will you try ? ’ ’ 

The boy nodded, and then, unable to say 
more, left the room. 

Mrs. Holiday looked at her son in some ex- 
asperation. 

“Philip, sometimes I think you are the 
most gullible person in the world. ’ ’ 

He laughed a little shortly. 

“Am I? I rather think I have learned a 
few things about human nature in the ten 
years I’ve been trying to heal people’s minds 
and bodies. And one thing I think I’ve 
learned is to know when a boy or man is 


220 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


speaking God’s truth. Even suppose I am 
mistaken, which I don’t believe I am, I’d no 
more turn that boy loose with this on his mind 
than I would commit murder. It would be a 
kind of murder. Please, Mother, not another 
word on the subject.” 

And when her son spoke in that tone his 
mother invariably yielded the point. She did 
now, though remaining unconvinced as to the 
boy’s innocence. Dark days followed for 
poor Dick. No one spoke of the lost money, 
but not for a moment was it forgotten. Dr. 
Phil was as friendly as ever, more so, in fact, 
to make up for his first doubt. Tony was pas- 
sionately loyal. The boys were frankly on 
the fence, and Dick knew and resented it. 
He and Larry continued the lessons, but the 
growing comradeship was nipped in the bud. 
Larry was kind, but there was a difference in 
his kindness how, and Dick felt it bitterly for 
he admired the other boy exceedingly. Had 
it not been for Tony’s faith and his promise 
to Dr. Phil, he could hardly have kept at his 
post as long as he did. 

But there came a day when the struggle was 


DISAPPEARANCES 


221 


too hard. Tony, going np-stairs to bed, found 
a note on her dressing-table; a note written 
in a queer, stiff, angular hand and grotesquely 
misspelled. 

‘‘Deae Tony/^ — S o the note ran. — 

‘‘I have went. I couldunt stand it eny 
more. Leastwise, Im going soonas the 
chores is done. V\\ give this to Ted to give 
to you when its two late too stop me. He 
wunt no what is in the letter. You and 
your unkul have been orfull good to me. I 
shant fergit it. You mustunt wory bout 
me. Idl he all write, i wunt do nuthing to 
spile the name you giv me. Thank you 
kinly fer that two. Tell your unkul I re- 
member all he said bout them boys and 111 
make him prowd of me two some day if i 
can. Goodby, 

Yours ohdiuntly, 

‘‘Richard Carson.’’ 

“1. Tell Larry thank you two. He was 
good too me, even if he did think may be I 
did take the munny. 

“2. Pleese dont feel two bad. D. C.” 


222 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


For a moment Tony could hardly make 
head nor tail of the queer letter, and when 
she did make it out she was almost too much 
overcome to think what could be done. It 
nearly broke her tender heart to think the boy 
had been driven out from shelter by the 
doubts of those who should have befriended 
him and to realize how he must have been suf- 
fering in his silent dogged way. But how 
could he be brought back? Her first impulse 
was to run to her uncle, but she remembered 
with dismay that he had gone to Worcester to 
take a patient to the hospital and would not 
be back until the next day. The boys 
would not help her. They would say it was 
impossible to get hold of the runaway if he 
had been gone three or four hours, as he evi- 
dently had, in nobody knew what direction. 

It did seem hopeless. Tony sat down on 
the bed, buried her face in her hands and 
thought. She felt sure Dick would not spend 
his few dollars on railway fare. Besides, 
there was no train out of the village that 
night. He would have to walk over to Win- 
chendon or Gardner to get a train. The 


DISAPPEARANCES 


223 


word Gardner brought an inspiration. She 
sat up. She remembered Dick^s saying once 
that a man in Gardner had been kind to him 
several years before and told the boy to come 
to him if the latter ever needed help. 

‘^He was the only man I ever knew who 
treated me real white till I met your uncle, 
Dick had explained. ‘^I^d go to him like a 
shot if I was in trouble. I was headed for 
him when I brought up here. ’ ^ 

There was the key. Somewhere between 
the Hill and Gardner she felt sure Dick was to 
be found. But over three hours start ! How 
could she ever overtake him? 

Then a new inspiration came. She flew to 
the closet and fumbled over things until she 
found a khaki riding-suit and a pair of stout 
little boots. Into this costume she slipped, 
and a little later, when she was quite sure 
every one was in bed, and, it was to be hoped, 
fast asleep, she stole quietly down the stairs, 
boots in hand, out through the shed and into 
the barn. She saddled Tessy and, in a twink- 
ling, a little figure, bestriding the black horse, 
flashed down the Hill into the darkness. 


CHAPTER XXI 


TONY VENTURES 

Tony had ridden horseback almost as far 
back as she could remember, consequently she 
was not in the least afraid to be on big 
Tessy^s back. Tessy was as gentle as a kit- 
ten, anyway, though fleet as the wind, and the 
little girl had been on her back more than once 
that summer. Still, it was a bit eerie to be 
riding alone through the night, and her heart 
beat fast, in tune to Tessy ’s thundering hoofs. 
It was already nearly eleven when she left the 
village and very few wayfarers were abroad. 
Save for a group of young merry-makers re- 
turning from a band concert, and an occa- 
sional ‘4over and his lass,^’ enjoying the tra- 
ditional pleasure of ‘‘buggy riding,^’ she met 
no one, and overtook not a single foot trav- 
eler, though, more than once, scanning the 
road ahead she thought she discovered some 
form in the shadows. 


224 


TONY VENTURES 


225 


Her first nervousness over, she began to en- 
joy herself thoroughly, for Tony loved ad- 
venture and was about as fearless as human 
nature could possibly be. Besides, she had a 
strong inner conviction that her wild ride 
would be successful, that somewhere along 
the road she would find Dick and make him see 
the folly of his flight. Almost any turn of the 
road now might reveal him she thought, and 
she redoubled the sharpness of her gaze. 
The moon was up now and the world lay al- 
most as clear to view as in broad daylight. 

Presently a new complication arose. She 
came to a fork of the road and reined Tessy 
in, in doubt as to which turn to take. In vain 
she tried to recollect which way she had gone 
when she came over the road a few weeks 
ago with her uncle. She waited, irresolute 
and dismayed, realizing that a slip now would 
spoil everything. There was no signboard, 
but suddenly a ^‘cotton taiP^ flashed across 
the road just ahead and scampered to the 
right. 

Maybe you^re a sign. Bunny,’’ whispered 
Tony with a nervous little giggle, and turned 


226 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Tessy in the direction in which the rabbit had 
vanished. She had not advanced far on the 
new road before her heart gave a sudden joy- 
ous leap. Among the shadows she saw some- 
thing move. As she approached nearer she 
recognized beyond doubt that a human form 
was huddled on the grass under some 
bushes. 

^‘Dick ! Oh, Dick she called without an in- 
stant ^s hesitation. And then she caught her 
breath quickly in sudden shock of disappoint- 
ment and consternation. The form had risen 
and a man’s evil face was leering at her out of 
the shadows. ^‘Oh, excuse me,” she stam- 
mered, ‘‘I thought you were Dick.” 

The man grinned and stepped out full into 
the moonlight. 

‘^Wisht I was,” he said. ^‘My name hap- 
pens to be Marmaduke Percival DeLancey.” 

Tony bit her lip. The man was evidently 
bent on pleasantries and she felt instinctively 
that they might not be agreeable ones. Yet 
she was determined to leave no stone un- 
turned to find Dick. 

“You haven’t seen anybody pass, have you? 


TONY VENTURES 


227 


I am looking for a boy about fifteen years old, 
awfully tbin and quite tall, with black 
hair. ’ ^ 

‘^Oh, you are.’’ And slowly and deliber- 
ately the man winked. 

Tony’s eyes sparkled and any faint rem- 
nant of fear vanished. 

‘ ^ Oh, you have ! ’ ’ she cried. ‘ ‘ Please, is he 
very far ahead P’ 

‘‘Hain’t seen no such person on this ’ere 
road.” 

Tony ’s heart sank. 

‘‘Watcher want of him anyhow?” The 
man’s tone was respectfully curious. 

“I want to get him to come home with me. 
He ran away because — because somebody 
didn’t believe in him and he couldn’t stand 
it.” 

“Must a been mighty sensitive,” grinned 
the man. He took a step nearer Tony, and 
his eyes, bright and inquisitive, peered up at 
her. “Didn’t you believe in him?” he 
asked. 

“I! Oh, yes. Of course I believe in him. 
That is why I’m here. Please tell me if you 


228 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


have seen him. ’ ^ All Tony ’s heart was in her 
warm dark eyes as she made her plea. 

He shuffled his feet a little uneasily in the 
dust and his shifty gaze fell. 

“On the road we donT give away a pal/’ he 
said. 

“Oh, then you have seen him?” cried Tony 
eagerly. “Is he on this road?” 

“No, he ain’t,” curtly. 

Tony drooped again. 

“See here. Missy, I did fall in with a chap 
sorter answerin’ your description. We did a 
piece together and he told me something like 
what you’ve been a-tellin’ me. You get 
kinder confidential on the road, you know. 
He said somethin’ too, ’bout a little gal who’d 
been good to him, and give him her name, 
though he wouldn’t tell what ’twas. Was you 
the gal ? ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Tony. 

“And you believe in him?” 

“ ’Course I believe in him. Dick’s fine,” 
stoutly. 

The man shrugged. 

“Dick’s a fine fool I’m thinkin’ to be run- 


TONY VENTURES 


229 


nin^ away from the likes of you. What’ll 
you give me if I tell you where you’ll find 
him!” 

Tony hesitated. 

‘‘I haven’t anything to give,” she sighed. 
‘‘I’ll send you money if you will give me 
your address.” She brightened at the idea. 

He chuckled hoarsely. 

“Uncle Sam ’d have some job findin’ my ad- 
dress,” he muttered. “No use. Missy. 
I don’t like promissory notes anyways. I 
like to handle the goods. Ain’t you got 
nothin’ better to offer?” 

Tony shook her head distressed. Sud- 
denly the moonlight fell on a ring she wore, 
one of her father’s gifts, set with a small but 
very beautiful ruby — the stone he always 
said was like herself. She cared more for the 
ring than anything else she possessed. But 
there was Dick. And resolutely she slipped 
the ring from her finger and held it out. 
“Will this do!” she asked. 

The man was very close now, so close she 
could see the greedy shine in his eyes as he 
snatched the ring. Then, unexpectedly, he 


230 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


shook his head and put the ring back on her 
finger. 

‘‘I ain’t takin’ pretties from a gritty little 
gal like you,” he said. ‘‘Keep your ring. I 
don’t want it. Go back to the fork o’ the 
road, take tother turn and watch sharp. 
Your Dick fool can’t have gone more’n a mile, 
I reckon.” 

“Oh, thank you,” cried Tony, aflame with 
happiness and gratitude. “You are awfully 
kind. I wish you would take the ring. I’d 
like to give it to you,” eagerly. 

He shook his head again. 

“I don’t need the ring, little Missy. But 
I would like — somethin’ else.” He paused 
in sudden embarrassment. “I had a little 
gal, onct. She ’d have been along about your 
age I reckon. She used to put her arms 
around my neck sometimes and say ‘ Daddy. ’ 
I’d like — ” He broke off with another shake 
of the head. “Better git on your way,” he 
advised shortly. 

But, impulsively, Tony had leaned out of 
the saddle, and before he knew what was hap- 
pening to him Marmaduke Percival DeLancey 


TONY VENTURES 


231 


felt a pair of warm arms around his neck and 
a soft little butterfly kiss fell on his cheek. 
‘‘Daddy,” whispered Tony. “ThaDs for 
her.” 

In a moment Tessy was clattering down the 
road retracing the way to the fork. The man 
stared after the retreating figure, gallantly 
erect and fearless as a new Jeanne d’Arc, on 
the great black horse. He put up his hand 
and ran his finger over the spot where the 
butterfly kiss had dropped. 

“That Dick chap’s a darn lucky fool,” he 
muttered. 

Half an hour later, the “darned lucky fool” 
was startled by the hurrying beat of hoofs 
and rendered stupefied with amazement when 
he beheld Tony Holiday rising out of the 
moonlight. 

“Dick! Oh, Dick! I’m so glad!” she 
cried, reining in Tessy for the third time 
since she started on her midnight jour- 
ney. 

A burst of long, eloquent, soul-relieving 
oaths trembled on Dick’s tongue. None of 
the refinements of his newly acquired vocabu- 


232 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


lary seemed at all adequate to the situation. 
But as the oaths manifestly could not be ut- 
tered, he simply dropped his jaw dazedly and 
said nothing. 

‘‘I’m here,” said Tony. “And you’ve got 
to go back with me, Dick. Oh, Dick, you made 
me feel just awful!” There was almost a 
sob in Tony’s voice. Dick could have heartily 
cursed himself at the moment. To make 
Tony cry! It was unthinkable — the unpar- 
donable sin. 

“I didn’t know — you’d care—like that,” 
he managed to stammer. 

“Of course I cared. You ought to have 
known I would, and Uncle Phil, too,” inco- 
herently. “How could you run away like 
that? It was awfully cowardly.” 

Dick swallowed hard. Suddenly he saw 
things as Tony Holiday saw them. With bit- 
ter scorn of self and self-abasement he knew 
he had been a coward as Tony said. No mat- 
ter how hard things were he should have 
stayed and “lived it down” as Dr. Holiday 
had told him. 

“I reckon I was a coward,” he admitted 


TONY VENTURES 


233 


slowly. ‘ ‘ Guess — I’d orter give you back the 
name. I don’t deserve it.” 

‘‘Nonsense,” snapped Tony. “You’ll 
come back, name and all. You’d better do it 
quick, too, for not a soul knows where I am.” 

Dick gasped, realizing for the first time 
what it was Tony had done for his sake. 

“You’ve come all this way alone just to git 
me,” he said as if he could hardly believe the 
truth of his own words. 

“Of course I did. There wasn’t any need 
of a whole police force, was there? I most 
didn’t find you though. I took the wrong 
turn and a nice man sent me back and told me 
where you were,” she explained cheerfully. 

“A nice man! Tony! Not that tramp!” 

Dick’s face went white in the moonlight. 
Wise beyond his years in life’s darker lore, 
he knew, as Tony Holiday would perhaps 
never know, how reckless that midnight ride 
had been. It made him sick to think of the 
possibilities of danger she had run for him. 

“Maybe he was a tramp, but he was nice 
for all that. He wouldn’t take my ring. He 
only wanted—” She broke off, feeling in- 


234 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


stinctively that Dick would not understand 
that kiss given for the other little girl who 
would have been about her own age. ‘‘He 
only wanted to help me find you,’’ she sub- 
stituted. “And I did,” triumphantly. 

“Should say you did. I’ll go back, Tony. 
Only you will have to ride slow so I can look 
after you.” 

Tony laughed. 

“I guess Tessy is big enough to carry us 
both. Can you ride?” 

“Sure I can ride. I’ve ridden the ugliest 
horses we ever had in the ‘Three Ring’ bare- 
back.” 

“Jump up, then. You can sit on the sad- 
dle and hold me on, in front.” 

And so through the night the puzzled Tessy 
carried her double burden back to Holiday 
Hill and into her own barja. 

“I’ll give her a rub down and slip out 
through the trap door,” said Dick. “I can 
get in to Jewetts’ all right.” 

Tony nodded agreement as she bolted the 
barn door. 

“Only don’t run away,” she warned. 


TONY VENTURES 


235 


“Not much I won^t — not after all the pains 
youVe took — taken to get me back. I say, 
Tony, I — oh, hang it! I canT say nothin’,’’ 
he burst out disgustedly. 

“Don’t try. Let’s shake and keep still,” 
and Tony held out her hand. 

Some long-forgotten vision of gallantry 
popped into the boy’s head and, dropping on 
one knee, he kissed the extended hand as rev- 
erently as any knight of old ever paid tribute 
to the chosen lady of his hand and heart. 

A moment later Tony stole noiselessly into 
the house, just as dawn was beginning to yel- 
low in the east. She made no delay about 
getting to bed and to sleep. And when the sun 
woke her five hours later she sat up, wonder- 
ing if she had dreamed her midnight adven- 
ture. But there on the floor were the stout 
little boots and the khaki trousers, proof posi- 
tive that there had been reality somewhere. 


CHAPTER XXII 


OF HUNCHES AND SO FOETH 

When Dr. Holiday came home Tony went 
straight to his office and told the whole story 
of her night ride from beginning to end. 
Only two things she omitted. She said noth- 
ing at all of that vicarious kiss on the road, 
which had been light as thistledown anyway 
and scarcely counted, and she forbore to men- 
tion also that other hit of knightly homage, 
delivered in the barn just as dawn was 
coming up over the hills. Those two mem- 
ories she put daintily away among her 
womanly reticences. The rest it was Uncle 
PhiPs right to know and judge as he thought 
fit. 

^‘Now, please scold just as hard as you 
want to,^’ she begged when she finished her 
story. ‘^Only please don’t expect me to be 
sorry I went, because I’m not one single little 
bit sorry. I had a glorious ride and I got 
236 


OP HUNCHES AND SO FORTH 237 


Dick, so I couldn’t very well be sorry, could 
11” she appealed naively. 

Her uncle shook his head with a humorous 
grimace. 

‘‘Behold what a devil and deep sea predica- 
ment you leave me in, as usual, you incor- 
rigible young sinner,” he said. “As an uncle 
and guardian I ought to deliver a fearsome 
lecture, stiff with threats and righteous 
wrath. As a mere human being, I’m filled 
with admiration of your pluck and luck.” 
He grew grave. “No, we won’t call it luck. 
You were in big hands, last night, child. I 
am inclined to think you acted on inspira- 
tion albeit a rash one. I am too thankful to 
have you safe and to have that poor lad back, 
to be very severe with you. So we’ll waive 
the lecture this time. Your punishment is 
silence. Not an ounce of glory for this night 
rampage of yours. Understand?” 

Tony nodded soberly. She did wish she 
could have told the boys. Already she had 
imagined herself just a little bit of a heroine 
in their eyes and now Uncle Phil’s sentence 
squashed all that. Anyway, she would not 


238 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


have wanted to give Dick away, so it was just 
as well she was under orders. 

‘‘If you see Dick, send him in to me,^^ added 
Dr. Phil. 

“Uncle Phil, you aren’t going to be hard on 
him!” she implored, all eyes in a moment, 
Tony fashion. 

“Not a bit of it. I just want to help 
straighten out a few things for him. Now, 
then, fly. I can hear the patients champing 
their bits in the other office.” 

Later that day he had his interview with 
Dick, and the kind, serious talk did the lad 
much good. He went out of the office with a 
great many things “straightened out” for 
him. He also went out with a fairly clear 
conception of how men like Dr. Holiday view 
a ‘ ‘ quitter, ’ ’ and a new understanding that it 
isn’t what other people think of us so much 
as what we think of ourselves that really mat- 
ters. 

He took up his life where he had laid it 
down with quiet grit which won the doctor’s 
approval as well as Tony’s. They, too, alone 
knew what lay between that chore time and 


OF HUNCHES AND SO FORTH 


239 


the next dawn, and he was grateful for their 
forbearance. That he had been a selfish, un- 
reasonable coward for a few hours, only those 
two good friends knew. He was spared the 
comment of the rest. Tony, who had 
hunches, as she called them, insisted that he 
would be cleared of the other accusation if he 
only waited long and patiently enough. 

‘‘Don’t see how,^’ he retorted gloomily one 
day when she was holding forth on the sub- 
ject. 

“Neither do I, but you will just the same. 
I feel it in my bones, and my bones are fear- 
fully and wonderfully reliable. Didn’t I 
know I could find you that night and didn’t I 
do it?” she boasted. 

“Thanks to the rabbit,” grinned Dick. 
“Where was your hunch that time?” 

Tony frowned. 

“The rabbit put me on the wrong track, 
silly thing, but there was a reason for that. 
I had to see my man. It was fate.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, ’ ’ said Dick dubiously. ‘ ‘ W ell, I hope 
your fate’ll get busy and show your grand- 
mother I didn’t snitch her money.” 


240 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


And, oddly enough, the very next day fate 
did “get busy.’^ 

Mrs. Holiday had asked Ted to see if he 
could dislodge a swallow’s nest in the chim- 
ney. Armed with a broom, he knelt before 
the great fireplace and peered up into the 
throat of the chimney. 

“Golly!” he ejaculated. “Come here, 
Tony.” 

Tony came and knelt beside her brother, 
likewise gazing upward. In one corner of 
the chimney hung a huge cobweb and in the 
web, neatly lodged, was a bit of dingy, green 
paper. 

“Why-ee! Ted Holiday! I do believe 
that’s Granny’s bill! Give me the broom!” 
exclaimed Tony. And with one swift thrust 
of the broom Tony destroyed the web and 
sent the bit of dingy green paper butter- 
ing down to the floor where she snatched 
it greedily. “It is! It is!” she cried 
excitedly. “Just wait until I show 
Granny ! ’ ’ 

She flew out on the porch, followed by Ted, 
hut to her disappointment found only Larry, 


OF HUNCHES AND SO FORTH 


241 


who listened to the story, however, with much 
interest. 

‘ ^ Gee ! Then Dick didn T take it T ’ he said 
as Tony finished. 

‘‘Of course he didnT. You ought to he 
ashamed of yourself, Larry Holiday, to think 
he did.^’ 

“I didnT — at least — not more than half,’^ 
he added honestly. “Anyway, I’m mighty 
glad he didn’t, and I ask his pardon most 
humbly for the half.” 

“You’d better do it in person,” flashed 
Tony. “You snubbed him that way.” 

Larry’s shrug admitted the impeachment. 

“I will,” he promised, and Tony was satis- 
fied, for when Larry made a promise he kept 
it, as she very well knew. 

“Wonder how the thing ever got up there,” 
puzzled Ted. 

“Easy enough,” said Larry. “Wind 
blew it into the fireplace. Draught caught it 
up and cobweb' held it. There you are in a 
nutshell. Wonder what Granny will say?” 

“I’m going to find out mighty quick,” said 
Tony. 


242 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


It must be confessed Mrs. Holiday was 
somewhat taken aback on being confronted by 
the lost money, together with Larry’s per- 
fectly plausible theory of the manner of its 
disappearance. Three pairs of keen, young 
eyes fixed on her face and all stamped unmis- 
takably with a “You are in the wrong. 
What are you going to do about it?” was also 
disconcerting. 

“I evidently misjudged the boy,” she ad- 
mitted after a moment. “Ted, take the 
money over to him and explain it is to make 
amends for the injustice I did him. ’ ’ 

Tony’s eyes shot sparks. 

“That won’t make amends,” she blurted 
out. 

Her grandmother raised her eyebrows. 

“What will?” she inquired. 

“Nothing, really,” said Tony inexorably. 
“But the least you can do is to tell him your- 
self you were mistaken and that you are 
sorry. ’ ’ 

For a moment the eyes of the two met with 
a steely flash as of crossed swords. Then 
Tony relented. 


OF HUNCHES AND SO FORTH 243 


Granny, dear, I don^t mean to be imperti- 
nent, but I’d love you so if you’d only do it 
nicely.” 

Mrs. Holiday smiled grimly and left the 
room. 

‘‘Isn’t she mean?” exploded Tony. 

‘ ‘ W ait, ’ ’ said Larry. 

And in a few moments Mrs. Holiday was 
back with a sheet of paper which she extended 
to Tony. 

“Is that nice enough?” she asked dryly. 

Tony snatched the paper and read eagerly. 
It was a formal but sufficiently gracious and 
perfectly sincere apology, ending with the ex- 
pressed hope that Hick would accept the en- 
closed bill as token that he bore the giver no 
ill will for her misjudgment. It was signed 
in a beautiful, prim, old-fashioned script, 

Hester Winthrop Holiday 

“That is lovely. Granny,” beamed Tony, 
all smiles. “Thank you ever so much. May 
I take it over to him, instead of Ted? He’s 
picking apples in the Jewetts’ orchard.” 

Her grandmother nodded permission, and 


244 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Tony was off like the wind on her errand. 
Dick read the note in silence and wrinkled 
his nose somewhat disdainfully at the money. 

‘‘I^d rather not keep it/^ he said. ^^I’m 
much obligated for the letter. It was rather 
decent of her to do it up so brown. 

Tony did not explain that the particular 
shade of ‘‘ brownness was chiefly of her be- 
stowing. 

“I think you ought to keep the money,’’ 
she objected. ‘^It isn’t courteous not to.” 

‘‘ ’Tain’t mine. Why should I keep it? I 
didn’t want it in the first place, I don’t now.” 

‘ ‘ That isn ’t the point. Granny did the best 
she could to make up and you ought to accept 
it in the same spirit. When we were lots 
younger, Larry had a book I wanted once, and 
he wouldn’t give it up right away, so when he 
did I was so mad I flung it at him. Daddy 
said I was an Indian receiver and that was 
worse than being an Indian giver. I think 
you are being an Indian receiver.” 

‘‘Don’t even know what an Indian giver 
is, ’ ’ grinned Dick. ‘ ‘ But it ’s evidently some- 
thing you don’t like. If you want me to keep 


OF HUNCHES AND SO FORTH 


245 


the stuff to make your grandmother feel bet- 
ter, ITl do it/’ 

“Do,” approved Tony, and she departed 
in high satisfaction with herself and the 
world. Thus, early in her career, it will be 
observed, she had acquired the valuable habit 
of making people see things her way. Luck- 
ily, Tony’s way was quite often, as in this 
case, the one which made the best of a situa- 
tion. Anyway, neither Mrs. Holiday nor 
Dick regretted the necessary swallowing of 
pride when Tony rammed that article down 
their respective throats for the good of their 
respective souls. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE GKEAT SECRET 

‘Ht isn’t that I care anything about their 
old secret,” said Phil, pensively chewing a 
piece of grass. ’Tisn’t very likely a parcel 
of girls would have a secret that would inter- 
est us much. What peeves me is their think- 
ing we couldn’t find out what they’re up to if 
we cared to. They act so hanged superior 
about it.” 

^‘1 know,” agreed Ted. ‘‘ ’Course we 
could find out easy as easy if we half tried. 
I say, Phil, let’s. There’s nothing much do- 
ing. We might as well spend a few of our 
energies in that line. ’ ’ 

have put out a few feelers,” admitted 
Phil. ‘^Not that I’ve really put my mind to 
it, so to speak. ’ ’ 

^^Find out anything?” 

‘‘Not much. I pumped Mums and Jean a 
bit but they wouldn’t bite,” he mixed meta- 

246 


THE GREAT SECRET 


247 


phors cheerfully. ‘‘But I do know they meet 
up in our attic, for I Ve tried the door and it^s 
been locked ever since this great secret busi- 
ness has been on.^^ 

“Can^t you get hold of the keyT’ 

“Did once, when they weren’t there. 
Wasn’t a thing out of the ordinary so far as I 
could see. The white elephant is evidently 
veiled if he’s there. I haven’t been able even 
to put an eye on the key lately. ’ ’ 

“Can’t you get a look in when the girls are 
there 1 ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Through a locked door ? I ’m no wizard. ’ ’ 
“But isn’t there a window?” 

“Sure. Two of ’em. But my aeroplane 
isn’t working, this week. Jerusalem! I’ve 
got it. ’ ’ 

“What?” 

“Skylight.” 

“They’d see you.” 

“See nothing, you ninny. I can get in 
through the skylight when they aren’t there 
and conceal myself in some sequestered nook 
until they are there. See?” 

‘ ‘ Glory, yes. Can you get up there ? Roof 


248 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


looks mighty steep/ ^ and Ted squinted medi- 
tatively in the direction of said roof. 

‘‘It is. But I can do it. Did once before 
on a dare. I can get on to the flat roof over 
the ell and crawl up to the skylight. The 
girls have it open so as to give the elephant 
plenty of air. It will be a cinch to drop 
through. ’ ' 

Accordingly, while the twins were doing the 
dinner dishes with an expeditiousness which 
betokened other plans, Phil executed his 
rather hazardous feat and successfully 
“dropped’’ through the skylight, landing with 
cat-like agility on his feet. He paused only a 
moment to wipe his perspiring countenance 
and then proceeded to conceal himself behind 
a pile of old trunks. 

“Whew!” he groaned. “Talk about Pur- 
gatory! Hope it’s no hotter than this.” 

A few moments later he was cheered by the 
sound of approaching footsteps, the click of a 
key and Charley’s unmistakable giggle. 

“Those boys are simply wild to know what 
we are doing,” she announced. “Phil and 
Ted are busting with curiosity.” 


THE GREAT SECRET 


249 


‘‘Well, we won^t have to bust much longer,’^ 
thought the listener. 

“Lock the door, Clare, said Tony. 
“Have you got the fourth act ready, 
Charley r’ 

“Um-hm. I did it in my head last night 
and I came up here before breakfast and 
wrote it out so I wouldnT forget.^’ 

The speaker was evidently rummaging in 
the tall chest of drawers not two feet from 
where her brother sat curled into an uncom- 
fortable knot, but with wide open ears. He 
heard the rustle of paper, followed by 
Charley’s voice, mumbling disconnected sen- 
tences. 

“Sir Reginald enters — right center. Lady 
G. — no, that’s the third. Here ’tis. Listen.’* 

Charley cleared her throat impressively 
and Phil craned his neck to obey her last com- 
mand. 

“Lady Guendoline discovered at 1. c. 
Lord Algernon enters r. w. That’s right 
wing. ‘Aha!’ he ejaculates. ‘At last she’s 
in me power.’ He laughs with grotesque, 
gloating glee. ’ ’ 


250 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘^0, Gee! I mean giggled Clare. 

‘^How did he do it? Give us a sample.’’ 

‘‘Do hush, Clare. You needn’t laugh. 
Bet you couldn’t of thought of all those nice 
words.” 

“I think they are great,” admired Tony. 
“You’re a wonder.” 

“Ain’t she?” seconded Phil, under his 
breath. “The little human vocabulary mir- 
acle!” 

“Lady G. rises and sweeps majestically out 
of the room. I mean off stage. Enter Dow- 
ager 1. c. 

“What’s a Dowager?” inquired Tony re- 
spectfully. 

‘ ‘ Oh, a disagreeable old party with a mon- 
ocle and a train a yard long. They always 
butt in at the wrong moment. ’ ’ 

“Suggests our esteemed aunt,” murmured 
Clare. “What does Dowager do?” 

“Do stop interrupting. We’ll never get 
through the synopsis, let alone writing the 
act. She and Lord Algy concoct a nefabu- 
lous — ^no, I mean nefarious plot to persuade 
Lady G. that E. C. — ” 


THE GREAT SECRET 


251 


‘^What^s that? Right Center?^’ 

‘‘Goodness no! Reginald Clancey, of 
course. To persuade Lady G. that R. C. has 
been faithless to her and is wooing the beauti- 
ful American heiress, Marguerite de Val- 
ois.’’ 

“That isn’t an American name. I’ve 
heard it before somewhere anyway,” ob- 
jected Clare. 

“I don’t care if you have. I like it. I 
guess an American heiress could be a descend- 
ant of a French countess if she wants 
to. Listen, I’ve got a great speech for the 
D.” 

‘ ‘ The D I So have I. ’ ’ And Phil mopped 
his brow feelingly behind his suffocating bar- 
ricade. 

“Read it,” encouraged Tony. “I love 
your speeches.” 

“So do I,” thought Phil. “I’ll use ’em 
later.” 

“ ‘He is false, false as yon changeful moon. 
You must cast him from your heart as you 
would expel a — a — ’ ” 

“A what?” demanded Clare. 


252 . 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


was going to say serpent but there is a 
better word. ‘As you would expel a scul- 
pin.’ ’’ 

“Sculpin’s a kind of fish. You mean that 
zodiaccy beast, all claws. Scorpion.’^ 

“That’s it. ‘As you would expel a scor- 
pion,’ ” continued Charley. 

“But does Guendoline believe all that 
tommy-rot f What does she say?” 

“She says, ‘Aunt Anastasia, I love Regi- 
nald Clancey, and I will never believe him 
false until I behold his treachery with my 
own orbs ! ’ ’ 

“Oh, Charley, don’t say orbs. Sounds like 
a physical geography or something. Can’t 
she have plain eyes ? ’ ’ 

“Orbs is more elegant,” dismissed 
Charley. “Am I writing this synopsis or are 
you, Clare Lambert? Enter Reginald and 
Miss de V., clad in a trailing gown of tur- 
quoise velvet — ” 

“What, both of ’em?” giggled Clare, the 
irrepressible. 

“Don’t be silly. Reginald is kissing Mar- 
guerite ’s hand as they enter, ’ ’ 


THE GREAT SECRET 


253 


‘‘Peripatetic osculation. ^ ^ Thus the men- 
tal comment from behind the trunks. 

“Whatever does he do such a fool thing as 
that for with his lady love on the spotP’ pro- 
tested Clare, the practical. 

“He doesnT see her. Nobody ever sees 
anybody on the stage even if they are right 
under the other fellow ^s nose.’’ 

“What’s he kissing Marguerite for if it’s 
Guendoline he wants to marry?” chimed in 
Tony. 

“That’s the plot. You’ll know why in the 
fifth act. Do let me go on. G. gazes with 
speechless scorn at her lover and shrieks 
‘False ! False ! Would I were dead at your 
feet! May God forgive you! I never 
can!’ ” 

“Some speechlessness,” chuckled Phil. 

“Then what?” cried Tony, carried away 
by the dramatic fervor of the scene. 

“Curtain,” oracularly. 

“Oh, give us the fifth. Let’s know the 
worst,” begged Clare. 

“All right,” assented her twin, thoroughly 
enjoying her prestige as author-in-chief and 


254 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


ready to prolong the privilege. ‘‘Things 
hump in the fifth act. They always do, you 
know. Scene one. Lord A. and Lady G. 
discovered tete-a-tete. ’ ’ 

“What’s that?” 

“Oh, that means heads together — head to 
head — literally.” 

“Heavens! Are they going to get this 
kissing mania too? What was that?” 

“What was what?” 

“I heard a noise.” 

“What kind of a noise?” 

“Like somebody sneezing or laughing or 
something.” 

“I didn’t hear anything. Probably it was 
a mouse. If you were really interested, not 
poking fun all the time, you wouldn’t hear 
things. ’ ’ 

“All right. Fire ahead. I can’t help my 
funny-bone though. Yours doesn’t seem to 
operate when you are writing plays. ’ ’ 

“Enter Miss de V. and Lionel Mont- 
rose.” 

“Help! Who’s he? I never heard of 
him, did you, Tony?” 


THE GREAT SECRET 


255 


course you didn^t. I made him up 
last night. There has to be somebody to 
marry Marguerite, doesnT there? You’ve 
got to look ahead when you write plays. 
He’s an American, and has been secretly en- 
gaged to Marguerite a long time. Eeggy had 
just found it out and was congratulating her 
when Guen saw him kiss her at the end of the 
fourth act.” 

‘‘Queer spot,” murmured Clare, her 
“funny-bone” still rampant. 

“Why secretly?” interposed Tony. 

“Because he was poor and her mother 
wouldn’t let her marry him. He’s just dug 
up a gold mine and come to London to claim 
his bride.” 

‘ ‘ Great ! What becomes of Lady G. ? She 
doesn’t marry that ‘infernal scoundrel’ Algy, 
does she?” 

“I’m coming to that. Scene two. Moon- 
light, roses, splashing fountain. Lady G. in 
white, with ropes of priceless pearls. She 
implores Keginald’s forgiveness for her base 
doubt of him and then cries, ‘Eeginald, I love 
you but I cannot be your wife. I am be- 


256 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


trothed to Lord Algernon.’ He presses her 
to him in silence.” 

‘‘Who! Algy?” 

‘‘Stupid! Reginald. Just at this mo- 
ment, Lord Algy enters, 1. w. Seeing G. in 
R.’s arms he falls into a vortex of rage. 
Don’t ask me what vortex means, Clare. I 
don’t exactly know myself, but I know it is 
the right word. In this vortex he falls to 
earth, stricken with apoplexy.” 

“Tactful customer,” muttered Phil. 

“Dowager rushes in with a telegram. She 
runs to R. with extended arms. ‘My dear 
boy,’ she cries, ‘Your brother died last night. 
You are the earl. There is now no reason 
why you should not marry dearest Guendo- 
line. The strawberry leaves will become her 
well.’ ” 

“Why strawberry leaves?” queried 
Clare. 

“Duchesses are always raving about their 
strawberry leaves. I think myself orange 
blossoms or something like that would be 
more romantic, but strawberries are the 
thing. ’ ’ 


THE GREAT SECRET 


257 


‘‘How does it end?’^ urged Tony mucli im- 
pressed. 

“Way they always do. Reginald sweeps 
Guendoline into his arms. Quick curtain. 
It goes up again in a minute and everybody 
comes out bowing and smiling, even poor old 
Algy.’’ 

‘ ‘ Algy was bulgy with apoplexy the last we 
knew. Quick recovery, ^ ’ thought Phil, nearly 
apoplectic himself with suppressed mirth. 

“It is perfectly splendid,’’ Tony was say- 
ing. “Let’s write it out quick. I can’t wait 
to begin rehearsing. ’ ’ And, indeed, this was 
literally true. The acting end was where she 
would shine and the part of the heroine had 
already been assigned to her. 

“Let’s not do it until to-morrow,” said 
Clare. “This garret’s a perfect oven. You 
keep the key, Tony. Phi] was nosing round 
for it yesterday and it will be safer in your 
possession.” 

“Good idea,” approved Charley. “I don’t 
want to take any chances of Phil’s getting 
hold of the manuscript.” 

As soon as the coast was clear, Phil crawled 


258 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


out of his hiding-place, cramped and nearly 
roasted alive, but jubilant. He lost no time in 
searching the chest for its treasure and 
speedily discovered a notebook, on the initial 
page of which was written in Charley’s clear 
round writing, ‘ ^ The Komance of Lady Guen- 
doline” or “The Course of True Love.” — A 
Drama in Five Acts. 

“Now then, my fair ladies, I have you pre- 
cisely where I want you,” chuckled Phil. 
“I’ll just purloin this to show the boys. 
Maybe we could learn a few choice bits just to 
show how we appreciate the literary efforts 
involved. ’ ’ 

Very highly pleased with himself, he 
pocketed the notebook, and moving the chest 
of drawers under the skylight, climbed up on 
it and made his exit, the way he had come, 
“top center” as he explained later with a 
wink to the other boys. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A STATE OF WAR 

The next hour was very profitably spent 
from PhiPs viewpoint, in exploiting the 
‘ ‘ Drama to Ted and Larry and Dick with 
sidelights on the delectable conversation he 
had overheard. 

‘‘What rotten stuff!” declared Larry. 
“What idiots girls are anyway! The idea of 
stewing away in a hot garret over such fool 
trash.” 

“They’ll be hotter than the garret before 
we get through with them,” appended Ted, in 
high glee of anticipation. “Tony ’ll have a fit 
when I serve the Lady Guendoline up to her. ’ ’ 

“I think it’s mean to plague the girls about 
it,” interposed Dick unexpectedly. 

“Don’t be an idiot, Dick. I guess Phil 
didn’t go to all that trouble just to let the girls 
down easy.” 

“Well, if you bother Tony and she feels 

259 


260 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


bad, I T1 punch your head, that ’s all, ’ ^ asserted 
Dick with unusual pugnacity. 

‘‘Tony ’ll have to stand the gaff with the 
rest of ’em,” put in Phil. “We found out 
their precious secret by fair means. It’s 
ours now, and we’re bound to get some fun 
out of it.” 

“I don’t think it was fair means. I call 
it mighty sneaky.” 

Phil’s fist doubled instinctively. 

“I’ve a good mind to make you take that 
back,” he said shortly. “If you hadn’t been 
sick I would. ’By. I’m going home.” 

And as Phil crossed the street he couldn’t 
help wondering if Dick were right, and if 
what he had done hadn’t been quite fair. 
Anyway it was done, and he didn’t propose 
to be taught any lessons in morals by an ex- 
circus performer. Neither did he intend to 
be cheated out of his hard-earned triumph. 
He lay low for the rest of that day, however, 
and awaited the outcome of events. When 
the girls discovered their loss it would be 
time enough to act. 

The next morning the collaborators retired 





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A STATE OF WAR 


261 


as soon as possible to work on the ‘‘text’’ as 
Charley called it. It was rather a shock to 
see the chest in its unaccustomed location 
and Charley made one dive into the drawer 
where she had placed the notebook yester- 
day. In a moment she whirled around with 
scarlet cheeks and angry eyes. 

“I knew it! It’s gone, and Phil Lam- 
bert’s got it! I thought something was up 
last night when he said something about ‘ne- 
farious plots.’ Oh, it’s mean!” And, over- 
come by her conflicting emotions, Charley 
plumped down on a rag bag and surveyed 
the others tragically. 

“He must have come in and out by the sky- 
light. Did you ever f ’ ’ gasped Clare. ‘ ‘ How 
do you suppose he ever dared to do it?” 

“Don’t know and don’t care. I wish he’d 
fallen otf the roof. Oh, no, of course I don’t 
wish that, but I’d like him to be paid up 
somehow, and I’ll do it, too. Phil Lambert 
had better look out, that’s all.” And Char- 
ley marched out of the room and down the 
stairs, followed more slowly by Clare and 
Tony. Nobody thought of locking the door 


262 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


this time. The treasure had been rifled. 
There was nothing left to guard. 

^^It’s worse for Charley, because it was 
more hers. I never saw her so upset about 
anything. She’ll never forgive Phil if he 
teases; and, of course, he will.” 

‘‘They’d better keep still to me,” said 
Tony with a toss of her head. “I’ll fix Ted 
if he tries to be smarty. Larry won’t be 
mean. He never is. ’ ’ 

“Well, Phil will be just awful,” groaned 
Clare. ‘ ‘ The play was ever so silly in spots 
and he’ll rub in every one of the spots. I 
just know he will. ’Twouldn’t be human na- 
ture not to.” 

In the meantime Charley had plunged 
ahead stormily into the living-room and 
poured forth a volley of wrathful vocabulary 
upon her brother’s head. Mrs. Lambert and 
Jean, who had no idea what it was all about, 
listened, somewhat aghast, at the tirade, but 
Phil grinned with provoking good humor. 

“ ‘False! False! False! Would I were 
dead at your feet ! May God forgive you ! I 
never can,’ ” he quoted dramatically. 


A STATE OF WAR 


263 


^^Phil Lambert, don^t you dare say an- 
other word!^^ Charley stamped her foot 
fiercely in emphasis of her command. 

‘‘ ‘Eeginald, I love you but I cannot be 
your wife,’ ” Phil raved on maliciously, and 
was rewarded by a stinging blow straight in 
the face. 

^‘Oh, come now, Charley! Don’t be a 
fool,” he expostulated, getting angry in his 
own turn. 

^‘Philip! Charley!” Mrs. Lambert 
thought it time to interfere. ^‘Charley, 
sit down and keep quiet for five minutes. 
When you can control yourself sufficiently 
you may explain what all this tempest is 
about.” 

‘‘I’ll tell you. Mums,” offered Phil. 

“No, we will wait for Charley.” 

“Phil Lambert, you’re the meanest!” 
Thus Clare hurled her bomb from the door- 
way where she appeared with Tony. 

Phil longed to deliver another moving quo- 
tation, but a sidelong glance at his mother’s 
grave face counseled discretion and he for- 
bore. 


264 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Can’t you take a joke, Twinnie?” he 
asked instead. 

“I don’t know whether I can or not. It 
depends. ’ ’ 

“I don’t think it was a very honorable kind 
of joke,” put in Tony severely. 

Phil flushed at that. He didn’t particu- 
larly like Tony’s siding with Dick in that 
somewhat derogatory point of view. 

By this time Charley, who had been mak- 
ing heroic efforts to get command of herself, 
looked up and managed to speak almost 
steadily, though with her eyes still full of 
angry tears. 

“Phil stole my play and read it,” she 
summed up her brother’s arraignment. 

“It was only a joke. Mums. I’ll give it 
back. But they made such a fuss over their 
secret that Ted and I were just bound to get 
even. I climbed in through the skylight and 
hid yesterday while they were doping it 
out, and after they went I swiped it for 
fun.” 

“You were in the attic yesterday and heard 
everything we said. I knew that wasn’t a 


A STATE OF WAR 


265 


mouse I heard. Why, Phil Lambert, I think 
that was just horrid of you ! ’ ’ 

Charley, huddled in a miserable heap on 
the couch, could find nothing worse to say 
than she had already said and added nothing 
to her twin’s reproach. Tony’s eyes flashed 
fine scorn. 

“I hate eavesdroppers,” she announced. 

Phil bit his lip but made up his mind to 
pass the remark off with a joke. 

‘‘I was only a roof dropper as it happens. 
I say, I feel as if I had gotten into a nest of 
hornets. Hasn’t any of you the sense to 
recognize a joke when you see one? If it had 
been the other way round you would all have 
been as proud as peacocks.” 

‘‘That’s so,” Clare suddenly capitulated. 
“Shake, Phil. I’m over my mad.” 

“You’re a trump, Clare,” and Phil 
squeezed the proffered hand with a grip which 
made its recipient wince. 

But Tony turned on her heel and left the 
room with her head in the air, and Charley 
remained silent, sulky, and woe begone in the 


corner. 


266 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘Here’s your precious drama. I don’t 
want it,” said Phil, producing the manuscript. 
Charley snatched it from his hands and tear- 
ing it in pieces threw it back in his face, after 
which expression of her feelings she ran out 
of the room. 

“Well, upon my word! Talk about tem- 
per!” And Phil stooped with a shrug to 
pick up the fragments of the unfortunate 
“Course of True Love.” 

Mrs. Lambert sewed on in silence which 
Phil suspected was not very approving. 
When he deposited the last scrap of paper in 
the waste basket he came over and stood in 
front of her. 

“Mums.” 

“Yes, Philip,” she answered, not looking 
up from her work. 

“Please, don’t be so still. I’d rather 
you’d say something. I hate having silence 
shrieked at me.” 

She did look up then with a faint quizzical 
twinkle in her eyes, though her lips were still 
grave. 

“What do you expect me to say? That I 


A STATE OF WAR 


267 


enjoy having you tease Charley until she goes 
oft on a tantrum like that? Or that I par- 
ticularly admire your roof-dropping exploit, 
especially as you know perfectly well you 
would have been forbidden to take such a dan- 
gerous climb if I had known?’’ 

‘‘No, I suppose not,” sighed her son gloom- 
ily. “Nobody ever understands a fellow. I 
suppose you think it’s up to me to make up 
with Charley.” 

“I certainly do. A joke which hurts some- 
body else isn’t much of a joke, Phil.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to feel like 
that about it.” 

His mother smiled slightly as she bent over 
to pick up another stocking to darn. 

“At any rate, you know how she feels about 
it now,” she said quietly. 

And that was all the satisfaction Phil was 
able to extract from that quarter, which, it 
must be admitted, was not a very large 
amount. 

The wake of Lady Guendoline’s romance 
continued to make trouble it seemed. Later 
that afternoon. Dr. Phil was startled by 


268 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


Tonyas sudden appearance in the office and 
listened to her excited statement that Ted 
and Dick were ‘‘fighting like everything and 
would he please come and stop themT’ He 
rose at once and followed Tony’s lead to the 
back yard, where, indeed, Ted and Dick were 
“fighting like everything.” 

The battle was evidently a close one. 
Dick’s recent illness had left him weak of 
muscle and his three years’ seniority and su- 
perior size and pugilistic skill scarcely offset 
this disability, for Ted was quick and strong 
and furiously angry into the bargain. As 
neither combatant appeared to hear, or, at 
least to heed, the command to cease hostili- 
ties, Dr. Phil walked in between them and 
with a sweep of his strong right arm sepa- 
rated the belligerents. 

“Ted! Dick! I’m surprised at you. 
What is this all about!” 

“He struck me first,” said Ted, bristling 
like a turkey cock. “I guess I won’t stand 
that from anybody.” 

“He was pesterin’ Tony,” put in Dick, ag- 
gressively. “I warned him I wouldn’t stand 


A STATE OF WAR 


269 


for it. He only got what was cornin’ to 
him,’’ darkly. 

^‘Oh!” Dr. Phil looked moderately en- 
lightened. “Tony, come here. I doubt if 
either of these doughty warriors is cool 
enough to explain things very clearly. Sup- 
pose you do it.” 

“Why, Uncle Phil, it’s only that Ted has 
been teasing me all day about a play we girls 
have been writing and I got so mad I finally 
cried and Dick came up just then and struck 
Ted. I didn’t mean them to fight. I^m 
sorry I cried. It was silly of me.” 

“So that is it.” Then Uncle Phil said: 
“Teddy, lad, I don’t know but I agree 
with Dick that you got pretty much what 
was coming to you, and being a Holiday, 
I don’t expect you to take a blow without 
hitting back, either. I rather think you 
are quits. How about it? Dick has vindi- 
cated his chivalry and Ted his honor, so 
suppose you shake hands like gentlemen and 
call it off.” 

Dick, like the immortal Barkis, professed 
himself as being “willin’.” Ted sulked for 


270 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


a minute, then grinned sheepishly and held 
out his hand. 

‘‘Say, but you’re some scrapper,” he ac- 
knowledged. 

Dr. Phil nodded approval. 

“All right then. Five minutes only until 
supper. Better remove the stains of bat- 
tle.” 

And the erstwhile foes parted amicably 
with no ill will on either side as became true 
knights. 

“Queer cattle, boys!” murmured Dr. Phil 
to himself with a shake of his head. “What 
next, I wonder?” 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE TEST 

Laery, stretched lazily on the couch in the 
up-stairs den, threw down his book with a 
yawn. 

Funny,’’ he thought. Seems as if I 
smelled smoke.” 

He rose and went out into the hall where 
the odor was even more unmistakable and 
seemed to come, oddly enough, from the gar- 
ret instead of from the kitchen. Bent on in- 
vestigation, he mounted the stairs to the third 
story and flung open the attic door. A sting- 
ing, blinding blast of hot smoke smote him in 
the face and he backed out hastily. 

‘‘Jiminy! There’s a fire sure enough! 
Wonder if Uncle Phil’s at home!” 

He peered cautiously in again through the 
thick smoke and saw that a pile of rag bags 
was blazing merrily and that a leaping line 
271 


272 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


of flame was making its way across tlie floor, 
where it had already caught some thin gar- 
ments hanging under the sloping eaves. The 
mischief was well under way. Quick action 
was imperative. Larry started to rush 
down-stairs to cry for help and get water 
when he was startled to hear a low but per- 
fectly distinct groan from somewhere beyond 
that barricade of flame and smoke. 

For a moment everything went black be- 
fore him. Then, seizing his handkerchief, he 
tied it around his mouth, and picking up a 
heavy winter overcoat, which hung near, he 
wrapped himself in it, and with white face and 
grim set lips he dove straight into the fire. 
The hot breath scorched his face, and one an- 
gry, scarlet tongue darted, snakelike, toward 
his hand, leaving a smarting ache where it 
touched, but otherwise he came through un- 
scathed. 

Just beyond, hardly three feet from the 
flames, lay his grandmother with ghastly pale 
face and an ugly purple bruise upon her fore- 
head. Her eyes, however, were wide open, 
looking very black and strange with the hor- 


THE TEST 


273 


ror in them. In a second the boy was beside 
her. 

‘^Granny, are you all right 

She nodded. 

‘^Shut — ^window,” she whispered thickly. 

Larry obeyed promptly, though wondering 
why she wanted the window closed. The 
smoke was getting uncomfortably thick and 
the breath of fresh air from the window was 
grateful as it struck his face. Then it oc- 
curred to him that that very blast of fresh 
air was doubtless doing damage, fanning the 
flames to greater height, which accounted for 
his grandmother’s order. He turned quickly 
for the next task, whatever it was. 

‘‘Extinguisher — shelf — corner.” The 
words came out with difficulty but the speaker 
made her meaning clear by a pointed finger. 

Larry nodded. He remembered now, hav- 
ing seen a patent chemical extinguisher some- 
where in the garret. What a fool he had been 
not to recollect it before! He slipped the 
protecting handkerchief back over his mouth 
to keep out the fumes and plunged back into 
the flames which were more vehement than 


274 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


ever now. One sleeve of the great coat 
caught fire as he passed through and a red 
flash ran up the rough surface of the mate- 
rial but he managed to extinguish it with the 
other arm, though he burned his hand rather 
badly in so doing. 

He found the extinguisher, and after that 
it was the work of a few moments only to fight 
the fire to the finish. What the chemical 
didn’t accomplish he was able to do himself 
by means of an old piece of carpeting. This 
done he dashed back to his grandmother and 
saw with dismay that her eyes were closed, 
that she had either been overcome by the 
smoke, or had fainted. He ran to the stairs 
shouting ‘^Tony” at the top of his lungs as 
he went. To his relief he heard the front 
door slam and saw Tony come flying in from 
the porch. 

^^Get Uncle Phil. If he isn’t home, tele- 
phone for another doctor and get Mrs. Lam- 
bert, quick. Granny’s hurt — in the attic.” 

Waiting only to be sure she understood, he 
rushed to the bathroom for water which he 
was soon dashing in his grandmother’s white 


THE TEST 


275 


face. In a moment the black eyes opened 
with such a look of love and gratitude in 
them that he had to swallow hard to keep 
back the lump which rose in his throat. He 
hadn’t always felt very friendly to his grand- 
mother, but at the moment he was conscious 
of a warm wave of affection welling in her 
direction. After all, she was ‘^Granny” and 
very dear. Following a sudden impulse, he 
bent down and bestowed a kiss on her fore- 
head, an unusual demonstration on the part 
of the reserved lad that brought an even 
softer expression into the dark, wide open 
eyes. 

And then. Dr. Phil, with Tony close behind, 
rushed in. There was no time for any ex- 
planations. The doctor gave one quick look 
at his mother, and then proceeded with 
Larry’s help to carry her down-stairs to her 
own room. By this time, Mrs. Lambert, also, 
arrived on the scene, and together they got 
the sufferer into bed. 

A severe shock to her nervous system, a 
bad bruise and a broken arm seemed to be 
the sum of the damage. Though the pain 


276 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


was severe she remained perfectly conscious 
while her arm was being set and even found 
strength to tell what had happened. She had 
gone to the garret to get something and had 
lit a candle to use in the dim recesses of the 
wardrobe. Tripping over a roll of carpet- 
ing, she had fallen heavily, hitting her head 
so sharply that she must have become uncon- 
scious for a moment. When she recovered, 
the fire was already started, and she realized 
that her arm was broken and that she was al- 
most powerless to move, and utterly unable 
either to put out the fire or to save herself. 
She had tried to call for help but the futility 
of trying to make herself heard through the 
closed door had discouraged her weakened 
will so she had simply lain still, watching 
those sinister flames rise higher and higher 
and creep nearer and nearer. 

“When Larry came, I had given up all 
hope. He ran straight through the fire to me 
and saved my life as surely as anything is 
sure in this world.” Mrs. Holiday’s voice 
broke a little for the first time as she made 
this statement, and her son’s face quivered 


THE TEST 


277 


with emotion. As for Tony, she flew ont of 
the room, with shining eyes, to find her 
brother who had slipped qnietly away some 
moments before. 

She found him in the bathroom, prosaically 
engaged in applying vaseline to his burns. 

‘‘Why, Larry! You were dreadfully 
burned, and you never said a word! Your 
face is all blisters and your hands — Oh, 
Larry ! You helped Uncle Phil just as if you 
hadn’t been hurt a bit. How could youT’ 

“I didn’t think much about anything with 
Granny like that. ’ ’ 

“But don’t they hurt awfully now!” 

“Not exactly comfortable,” admitted 
Larry. “Nothing to make a fuss over, 
though. ’ ’ 

“Well, you are a sure enough hero, Larry 
Holiday, and I’m just as proud of you as I 
can be.” 

“So say we all of us,” said Dr. Phil, ap- 
pearing in the doorway. “Go down to my 
office, Larry, where I can dress those burns 
of yours properly.” 

And when the medical ministrations were 


278 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


finished, Dr. Phil put both hands on his 
nephew ^s shoulders and looked straight down 
into the fine gray eyes. 

‘‘Don’t ever tell me again that Larry Holi- 
day is a coward. For sheer grit and wit, I 
don’t need to hear of anything better. I’m 
proud of you, Larry. And we all owe you 
more than we can possibly say. I suppose I 
don’t need to tell you that you undoubtedly 
saved Granny’s life.” 

“I guess it was a very close shave,” ac- 
knowledged Larry. “I’m glad I could. 
But, Uncle Phil, I don’t deserve quite so much 
praise. I was afraid, awfully afraid for a 
moment. It just seemed as if I couldn’t de- 
liberately go into that fire. And then I knew 
it was my job and I just shut my teeth and 
did it.” 

“To know your job and do it, no matter 
what happens. That’s all there is to cour- 
age, Larry.” 

“Maybe. Anyway, I can’t help being glad 
you see it that way. And, Uncle Phil, the 
queer part of it is, it doesn’t seem as if I 
ever should be afraid again, I wasn’t at all 


THE TEST 


279 


afraid the second time I went through the 
fire. It was as if something had been burned 
out of me the first time.’’ 

‘‘I believe something of the sort did hap- 
pen, Larry. You had been doubting yourself 
so long that the moment you found you could 
act with courage you restored your faith in 
yourself. The morbid dread was burned 
away, leaving you fearless. I don’t believe 
you ever will be afraid again in the same way. 
That ghost is laid.” 

“I hope so,” fervently. 

Larry’s burns proved to be not very seri- 
ous and, indeed, were practically healed in a 
week. His grandmother did not fare so well. 
The fall and the severe nervous shock kept 
her in bed for many days. The children did 
their faithful best to be quiet and considerate 
and helpful and the invalid herself was 
strangely gentle and softened. 

‘‘She’s really beginning to look for the 
good in us, ’stead of always being on the look- 
out for the bad,” Tony confided to her 
uncle. 

Indeed it would have been a very blind per- 


280 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


son who could have failed to be touched by 
Tony’s faithful attendance. The child might 
have counted by the thousands the steps she 
took each day in her grandmother’s service 
and all with the sweetest willingness in the 
world. 

It was Tony whose dainty fingers arranged 
the sickroom trays and kept fresh flowers on 
the stand by the bed. It was Tony who 
bathed Granny’s head when it ached and read 
aloud to her by the hour from long dull books. 
It was Tony who flitted in and out softly with 
bits of gay Hill gossip and eager otfers of 
services. In fact, it became almost a joke in 
the household that nobody could do anything 
quite right except Tony. Her grandmother’s 
eyes followed her wistfully sometimes, and 
once Tony heard Mrs. Holiday tell her son 
she didn’t see how she could ever get along 
without the child when she went away in the 
fall to boarding school. 

That set Tony to thinking, and the result 
of her thinking was a long, fat letter to Daddy 
which was answered, in due time, by another 
equally long and fat. And the sequel to the 


THE TEST 


281 


two long, fat letters was a conference with 
Uncle Phil. 

Uncle Phil, IVe decided not to go away 
to school but to stay and go to High School 
here with the boys. Daddy approves, if you 
do.’’ 

Dr. Phil surveyed the speaker. 

‘‘Why?” he asked. 

“Because,” said Tony and stopped. 

‘ ‘ There ’ll be time enough to go away to school 
later,” she added casually. 

“When do we get to the why?” 

Tony laughed and shook her head at the 
question. 

“You are too wise. Uncle Phil. The real 
reason is — Granny.” 

“I thought as much.” 

“Granny’s loving me quite a lot these days,, 
and I love to be loved.” 

He did not speak, guessing there was more 
to follow. 

“Granny won’t be well and strong again 
for some time to come, will she ? ’ ’ 

“I’m afraid not, Tony.” 

“Well, that’s it, too. Granny’s needing 


282 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


me quite a bit, too, it seems to me. And I 
like to be needed.’’ 

‘‘The eternal feminine,” smiled her uncle, 
but his eyes were tender. He understood 
perfectly that Tony was doing a generous and 
very sweet thing. “Bless you, little girl,” 
he added. “I believe you will never be 
sorry. ’ ’ 

“It isn’t only Granny, either,” went on 
Tony. “Daddy thinks it’s good for Ted and 
Larry to have me with them and that it’s 
good for me to have them. He doesn’t care 
very much for all-girls’ schools, though he 
said I might go if I really wanted to. And 
I do want to. Uncle Phil. One part of me 
wants to go dreadfully, and it’s no use pre- 
tending it doesn’t. But the other part of me 
— the bigger part — ^wants to stay here, if 
you’ll let me.” 

The decision brought such evident relief 
and pleasure to Mrs. Holiday that Tony was 
nearly overcome. 

“Why, Uncle Phil, I never had any idea 
she cared so much,” she confessed. “And I 
guess she didn’t know I cared so much. 


THE TEST 


283 


either. Fact is, I didn’t know it myself. But 
Granny knows now what I’m like inside and 
I know what she’s like inside and if our out- 
sides kind of scratch each other sometimes, 
as they probably will, it won’t matter so aw- 
fully.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE FEXJD 

‘‘Somebody must have bought the bunga- 
low/’ announced Clare. “The ‘To Let’ sign 
is gone.” 

The bungalow was the empty house at the 
foot of the Hill which was the property of 
some city people who had already tired of 
coming to the country lakeside for their sum- 
mer holidays and had oifered the place for 
sale some months ago. 

“Maybe Dr. Phil’s bought it,” suggested 
Charley. “I saw him coming out of there 
yesterday. ’ ’ 

“What would he want of a house!” asked 
Clare. 

“Don’t know. Maybe to carry out some of 
his pet schemes of bringing girls up from 
the city for cheap vacations. Do you know, 
Mother!” 

Mrs. Lambert shook her head. If she pos- 

284 


THE FEUD 


285 


sessed any theories on the subject she did not 
choose to air them at the present. 

^‘Goodness me ! Clare, you most made me 
forget what I was going to say. I’ve got a 
brand new, perfectly, swell elegant scheme.” 

‘‘Sit still, me beating heart! Expound.” 

“We are going to give a gorgeous, bang-up 
banquet with menu cards and speeches and 
magnificent eats and — and everything,” 
Charley finished inclusively. 

“Who’s going to cook the magnificent eats 
and make the speeches?” 

“We, us, ourselves. Don’t you think it’ll 
be great?” 

“Sure. I’m prepared for anything.” 

“Isn’t it a fine idea. Mums? Jean?” de- 
manded Charley further, of the assembled 
company. 

“Fine,” agreed her mother heartily. 
“Why not make it a Bound Table banquet?” 

“I was going to say why don’t you make it 
a party for Miss Marjorie? Her birthday’s 
next Wednesday and she’s going away very 
soon after that.” This from Jean with in- 
terested face. 


286 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘We can make it both. Can’t we, Char- 
ley T’ asked Clare eagerly. “We can have 
a Eound Table banquet in honor of Miss Mar- 
jorie.” 

“All right — all but one thing. You may 
as well all understand that I shan’t invite 
Phil Lambert to my banquet, nor Ted Holi- 
day, either, for that matter. I’ve been wait- 
ing for a chance to pay Phil back good and 
hard and now I’ve got it. I guess they’ll be 
sorry when they know what we are going to 
have to eat.” 

Mrs. Lambert opened her mouth to speak 
then shut it again, leaving the words un- 
spoken. It was her policy to let the children 
work out their own weal and woe unless ar- 
bitration became an absolute necessity. Jean 
was less cautious. 

“Miss Marjorie wouldn’t like that at all,” 
she objected. 

‘ ‘ I can’t help it. It ’s my party most ’cause 
I thought of it, and if I’ve got to ask Phil 
Lambert I just won’t have it. That’s flat.” 

“Come on and find Tony and let’s talk it 
over,” suggested Clare tactfully. She knew 


THE FEUD 


287 


her twines bark was worse than her bite and 
thought the latter would change her mind 
when the time came. The main thing was to 
get the Banquet’’ on an established basis. 

For a week the atmosphere was surcharged 
with this new excitement very much as the 
previous one had been heavy with the 

Drama.” There was usually some absorb- 
ing project or other afoot on the Hill. The 
youngsters were pretty apt to be going ‘Hrom 
one severe gog into another.” The plans for 
the great feast grew and multiplied amaz- 
ingly. Mrs. Holiday, interested and amused 
by Tony’s enthusiastic reports of the atfair, 
offered the use of her dining-room, with all 
the necessary accompaniment of silver and 
china and glass and linen, a surprising piece 
of generosity on her part which nearly took 
the girls’ breath away and fired their zeal to 
make the dinner a truly ‘^epoch-making 
event ’ ’ as Charley magnificently described it. 

Open to all kinds of suggestions along other 
lines, the inventor of the great banquet 
scheme remained obdurate on the one rather 
critical point. Phil and Ted were to be pun- 


288 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


ished, once and for all, by tbeir enforced ab- 
sence from the felicity of the ^^epoch-making 
event.’’ They should not and could not be 
invited if Charley were to remain the sov- 
ereign commander of this new ‘‘gog,” and 
it would have been a bold person, indeed, who 
would have dared to hint at her abdication 
from that post. Charley was a born general, 
and without her there would have been no 
feast indeed. 

The affair was by no means to be what 
Larry called a ‘ ‘ hen party, ’ ’ however. Larry 
and Dick were both honored with formal in- 
vitations, the former out of consideration of 
his forbearance on the subject of ‘‘Lady G.” 
and also for his recent distinguished services 
rendered ; the latter, as a reward for his effi- 
cient championage of Tony’s cause in the 
face of the enemy. At Mrs. Lambert’s sug- 
gestion, Dr. Phil, who was always doing some- 
thing nice for what Clare had christened the 
“Hillocks,” was likewise invited. Only the 
two arch-sinners were to be barred from at- 
tendance, a fact which made their punishment 
doubly effective in Charley’s shrewd eyes. 


THE FEUD 


289 


‘^Well, I call it darned cool,’’ was Phil’s 
verdict when all the invitations were officially 
‘‘out” and it became only too apparent that 
no more were forthcoming. 

“You mean it makes you darned hot,” cor- 
rected Larry slyly, not averse to “rubbing 
in” his superior prestige as an invited guest. 

“After all we’ve done for those girls this 
summer, too, ’ ’ pursued Phil, preferring to ig- 
nore the gibe. 

“Especially your thoughtful dramatic 
criticism of the ‘Komance of Lady Guendo- 
line,’ ” grinned Larry. 

“You needn’t feel so smart over getting a 
bid to the old thing. I’ll bet they’ll hear 
from us before they are through with their 
precious tea party,” predicted Ted darkly. 
“Come on for a swim, Phil.” And he 
winked significantly, thereby conveying his 
desire to confer with his fellow victim apart. 

And later, when the boys came up the Hill 
again, after their swim, there was something 
sinister to the twins’ gaze in the inappropri- 
ate cheerfulness, the smug, mysterious air of 
self-approbation worn by the two. 


290 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘‘ITl bet Phil Lambert has something up 
his sleeve/’ said Clare that night as the girls 
went to bed. You’d better ask him to the 
party in selfrdefense.” 

‘‘I’ll do nothing of the kind. If Phil Lam- 
bert does anything to spoil my banquet, I’ll 
— I’ll — Oh, I don’t know what I’ll do to 
him, but it will be something dreadful.” 

Secretly, however, her brother’s diabolic 
good humor and tranquillity, in the face of his 
exclusion from the feast, filled Charley with 
consternation. So much so, in fact, that she 
went the very rare length of appealing to her 
mother on the subject. 

“I just know he’s going to do something 
mean. Mums. Won’t you please stop him?” 
she begged. 

“You have it in your own power to do that, 
Charley. ’ ’ 

“I!” 

“You have only to invite him to your ban- 
quet. Coals of fire are about the hottest pun- 
ishment you can inflict. Haven’t you ex- 
acted enough penalty from Phil, by this time, 
anyway?” 


THE FEUD 


291 


‘^No, I haven’t. And I wouldn’t invite him 
now, anyway. He’d think I did it because 
I was afraid of him. No, sir ee, boh!” And 
Charley set her mouth very firmly and de- 
parted, concluding that there was no assist- 
ance to be gained from this source. 

Mrs. Lambert was, however, a little better 
than she promised. That evening she and 
Phil happened to be alone in the living-room 
and he looked up from his reading to find her 
gaze fixed on him. 

‘‘What is it. Mums? You look as if you 
were trying to work out a puzzle.” 

‘ ‘ I am. I was wondering if you thought it 
paid. ’ ’ 

“What?” Phil returned rather ostenta- 
tiously to his magazine. 

“This feud with Charley.” 

“There isn’t any feud, or if there is, 
it’s all on her side. I haven’t any grouch. 
Besides, she’s had her innings. We’re 
quits.” 

“And you propose to remain quits?” 

Phil fluttered the leaves of the magazine 
and bent to examine a photograph of a new 


292 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


kind of submarine. In bis mind was a vision 
of some sleek, long-tailed, pink-eyed white 
rats, emerging from a covered dish, of pos- 
sible overturning of viands, of certain 
screaming and scattering of damsels. The 
mice were real and no vision merely. He 
knew just where he could lay hands on them 
when the time came. He and Ted had seen 
to that. The preparedness campaign was 
complete. But naturally one does not reveal 
such visions to one^s mother. Hence the ab- 
sorption in the submarine. 

‘H wouldn’t do it. Son. It won’t pay.” 
Mrs. Lambert spoke quite as if he had spoken 
out loud. 

‘‘What?” he asked resentfully. “See 
here. Mother. You’re not a bit fair. You’re 
blaming me for things I haven’t done and 
you don’t even know I’m going to do.” 

‘ ‘ Can you assure me honestly that you are 
not planning to do something else to annoy 
and trouble the girls?” 

Phil was silent, self -convicted by his silence 
and he knew it. 

“Does all this Bound Table talk mean so 


THE FEUD 


293 


little to you? Are you willing to be the one 
to spoil all it has stood for?’^ 

Phil wriggled uneasily. 

‘‘I’m not spoiling it, ’ ’ he retorted. “ Char- 
ley is.” 

‘ ‘ That is not a very knight-like speech, Son. 
The offense was yours in the first place. 
Have you made any honest effort to restore 
peace?” 

Phil shook his head. 

“No, I haven’t, and, what’s more, I’m not 
going to. She’d think I was doing it just to 
get a bid.” 

Mrs. Lambert couldn’t' help smiling, re- 
membering how closely Charley’s argument 
resembled Philip’s. 

“Why don’t you tell me out and out to 
apologize to Charley and order me to keep 
hands off her old tea party?” Phil’s tone 
was aggressive and not very courteous. But 
underneath he was hoping, just a little, that 
this was precisely what she would do. At 
least, it would let him out from a situation 
of which he was really a bit tired. 

“Because you happen to be old enough to 


294 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


do your own thinking, Philip, and quite ca- 
pable of deciding for yourself what is worth 
while and what isn^t,’^ his mother replied 
quietly. ^^Look at me, Son.’^ 

Eeluctantly Phil obeyed. 

‘‘I don^t believe you are quite as bad as 
you are trying to make yourself out. In fact, 
I am sure that I can trust you to do the right 
thing whatever you decide that is. Now am 
I unfair, dear!’’ 

“Oh, Mums! I ought not to have said 
that,’^ said Phil penitently. “You’re a dear, 
and I’ve been a grumpy bear. I’m sorry. 
But I do most wish you’d issue orders. 
Otherwise, I’m not sure I’ll ever have the 
heart to give up my ^nefarious plot,’ ” he 
quoted with a laugh but with a serious plea 
underneath. 

She shook her head decidedly at that. 

“Don’t shirk, little boy,” she smiled. “I 
have no intentions of doing your thinking for 
you.” 

In the meantime, Charley, who had run 
over to consult Miss Marjorie about some de- 
tail of the great feast which was to come off 


THE FEUD 


295 


tlie next evening, had been confronted by the 
same bard-to-answer question, ‘‘Are you go- 
ing to be the one to break up the Bound 
Table r’ 

“I’m not breaking it up. Miss Marjorie,” 
protested the girl. “The Round Table’s all 
right only Phil doesn’t deserve to be in it 
because be was horrid and dishonorable and 
unkind about the play and I know he’s plan- 
ning to do something else just as mean to 
spoil the banquet.” 

“Charley, did you ever think that the 
Round Table wasn’t a piece of furniture, or 
even a group of men? It was a spirit, and 
when the spirit was gone the Round Table 
was no more.” 

Charley poked a grass blade with the toe 
of her slipper and her eyes were troubled but 
she shook her head obstinately. 

“I can’t help it. Miss Marjorie. I’m sorry 
if you think I’ve spoiled the Round Table, 
but there’s something inside me that just 
won’t let me give in about this.” 

“I am sorry, too, Charley.” Miss Mar- 
jorie was silent a moment, watching a firefly 


296 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


flit past in the darkness. ‘‘Are you still 
angry with PhilT^ she asked after a pause. 

Charley looked up, surprised. 

“Why, of course I^m still angry!’’ she ex- 
claimed, and then hung her head, for sud- 
denly, down in her heart, had sprung up a 
queer, horrid doubt. Was she still angry? 
Or was it just that she was cherishing hurt 
vanity and stiff-necked pride and a mean lit- 
tle grudge f 

“I wonder?” smiled Miss Marjorie as if 
she guessed the existence of the queer hor- 
rid doubt. “Think it over, Charley, and see 
if it isn’t that you’ve fallen in love with the 
quarrel until you’ve almost forgotten the 
original cause.” 

“Why, Miss Marjorie, I’m not a bit in love 
with the quarrel,” reproachfully. “Things 
have been just horrid all the week. Even the 
banquet’s no fun, because everybody thinks 
I ought to give in and ask Phil and Ted. 
Even Clare thinks so, though she doesn’t say 
it. I guess it’s no joke to be on the other 
side of the fence from your twin when you’re 
used to thinking just alike about everything. 


THE FEUD 


297 


Everything’s spoiled,” she summed up dis- 
mally. 

“Which is pretty much what I’ve been say- 
ing to you. Everything’s spoiled because the 
spirit of the Eound Table has vanished. 
You could straighten it all out in a twinkling, 
little Knightess, if you would, by making up 
with Phil.” 

“Oh dear. That’s what Mother said,” 
wailed Charley. “Nobody understands.” 

And she turned and fled to hide the tears 
which would come. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


PEEPAKATIONS 

All the next day excitement ran high on 
the Hill. From early morning to mid-after- 
noon preparations went on almost uninter- 
mittently. The menu cards Jean had al- 
ready finished the day before and they lay in 
a pile in a drawer of Mrs. Lambert’s desk, 
carefully concealed, for Charley had a mor- 
bid dread of leaving anything where it could 
fall into Phil’s hands. The cards were fold- 
ers of cream white paper with a dainty clover 
design on the outer sheet, for this flower with 
its fragrant little pink and white blossom and 
its triple leaf had been chosen as the symbol 
of the order of the Round Table. 

‘Ht is so cheerful and friendly and every- 
day,” Miss Marjorie had said. ‘‘We won’t 
even take the four-leaf. We aren’t looking 
for luck but just good fellowship.” 

So here was the clover on the menu cards, 
298 


PREPARATIONS 


299 


and down in one corner, in quaint Old Eng- 
lish print done in gold letters, was the Ger- 
man motto, “Ich Dien,’’ the ‘‘I serve, with 
which Larry had taken a shot at himself 
once. On the first page of the open folder was 
the menu itself, the result of much delibera- 
tion and discussion on the part of the young 
cooks. At the top was the quotation from 
Macbeth 

“At first 

And last a hearty welcome.’^ 

Next followed the bill of fare itself, which 
read as follows : 

Cream of Celery Soup. 

Brook Trout — a la Dick and Larry. 

Roast Chicken — Holidayish. 

Green Peas. Mashed Potatoes. 

Creamed Asparagus. 

Mother Lambert Rolls. 

Currant Jelly — a la Jewett. 

Cake. Caramel Mousse. 

Grape Juice Punch. 

The girls had not intended to have the fish 
course, but Dick and Larry, in their zeal to 
repay the favor of their invitation, had of- 
fered to provide the trout and had started 


300 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


bright and early before breakfast for the 
promised delicacy. On the strength of these 
prospects Jean had been instructed to add 
the second item, and every one concerned was 
relieved when the fishermen returned with 
the spotted beauties fresh from the woods, 
actually in their possession. Otherwise the 
second item would have been necessarily, ‘ ‘ of- 
^cially’’ omitted from the program as Clare 
announced, with a mischievous accent on the 
second syllable. Credit was likewise given 
to Mrs. Holiday for the chicken she had pro- 
vided, and which Mary Anne Eliza had prom- 
ised to roast for the occasion in her own in- 
imitable manner. The ^‘Mother Lambert 
Rolls’’ and the ‘‘Currant Jelly, a la Jewett” 
were also contributions, but the rest of the 
bill of fare was to be exclusively the work of 
the young “Round Table Ladies.” 

The second page of the card announced the 
toasts and read thus : 

Toast Master Sir Philip Holiday 

“A verray parfit gentil knighP’ 

The Ladies Sir Laurence Holiday 

^‘Drink to me only with thine eyes” 


PREPARATIONS 


301 


The Round Table Lady Jean Lambert 

“I drink to the general joy of the whole table’* 

The Knights Lady Marjorie Ericson 

^‘The good stars met in your horoscope 

The Summer Lady Antoinette Holiday 

“Gather ye rose buds while ye may” 

“A kind good night to all” 


The twins had refused to have any toasts 
assigned them, declaring they had quite 
enough to do without trying to make up 
speeches. 

‘^Besides, we shall talk all the time, any- 
way,’’ said Clare. ‘‘We always do. You 
needn’t arrange any set pieces for us.” 

By three o’clock the Holiday dining-room 
was in perfect order, the snowy linen and 
silver and china all set forth. The center 
piece was a bowl of clover, and at either end 
of the table stood the tall silver candlesticks 
with the rose-colored shades that Tony par- 
ticularly loved. 

“It’s lovely,” sighed Clare, standing back 
to admire the effect. “I do wish we could 
have had roses, though. The clovers are 
neat and appropriate, of course, but some- 


302 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


how I’d have liked something a little more 
festive for the occasion.” 

‘‘So would I,” agreed her twin. “But it 
can’t be helped. We’ve swamped all our for- 
tunes in — you know what — and hothouse 
flowers cost like fury, even if we had any way 
of getting hold of them which we haven’t.” 
She glanced at the clock. “My goodness, 
girls ! How are we ever going to wait until 
it’s time to start dinner? Every blessed 
thing is done that can be done until the last 
minute. ’ ’ 

“Oh, there is Mr. Maybury in his lovely 
great car!” exclaimed Tony, from the win- 
dow. “I just wish he would ask us to go 
out in it.” 

Apparently it was one of those lucky days 
when you have only to wish for things to have 
them come true, for it wasn’t three minutes 
before Dr. Phil stuck his head into the dining- 
room door to ask if the hostesses could take 
time for an automobile ride. Of course the 
hostesses could, and did, and very shortly the 
big car had stowed away every single 
“Knightess,” including Miss Marjorie, in its 


PREPARATIONS 


303 


capacious depths. Mr. Maybury was a col- 
lege friend of the doctor ^s who was staying 
at the hotel down in the village and more than 
once before had appeared on the Hill and kid- 
napped the ‘‘Hillocks’’ whose society he ap- 
parently enjoyed. They certainly returned 
the compliment in full measure, and to-day 
decided he was nicer than ever and possessed 
of magic vision to know just when a diversion 
would be most welcome. 

Poor Charley couldn’t quite enjoy anything 
these days, because of that horrible obsessing 
fear of Phil’s possible malefactions. 

“Wish we’d locked up the dining-room the 
way we did the pantry,” she whispered to 
her twin. “We’re leaving a clear field for 
Phil. Oh, Clare, you don’t think he would 
do anything, do you? I ’most wish we’d 
stayed at home, don’t you?” 

“And missed this ride? No, thank you. 
Do stop worrying about Phil. He wouldn’t 
be as mean as that.” 

“I don’t know,” dubiously. “Phil will do 
a good deal when he gets started.” 

“You are getting to be a perfect goose on 


304 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


that subject. Do stop talking about Phil and 
let me enjoy this ride if you can^t.^’ 

Clare spoke with unusual testiness and her 
twin turned away with a tight feeling in her 
throat. Even Clare was against her. Every- 
thing was spoiled, just as she had said to Miss 
Marjorie. Thinking of Miss Marjorie re- 
vived the queer, horrid doubt, which had been 
bobbing up at intervals all day. ‘‘Falling in 
love with a quarrel!’’ What a disagreeable 
sound the words had! She was very quiet 
the rest of the drive. 

It was nearly quarter of six when the 
“Ladies” bade Mr. Maybury good-by with 
many thanks for their delightful ride. Clare 
and Jean and Tony flew up the path and en- 
tered the Holiday kitchen by the side door. 
But Charley lingered a moment with Miss 
Marjorie. 

“Miss Marjorie, I — ^I’ve been thinking,” 
she faltered. “I’m going to ask the boys. 
I’ve been a goose, just as Clare says. I was 
wrong and everybody was right, especially 
you.” And, without waiting for any re- 
sponse, Charley ran after the others. 


PREPARATIONS 


305 


Jean had just flung open the dining-room 
door as Charley entered. 

‘^Oh,” she exclaimed, ‘‘girls, come here 
quick ! ’ ’ 

Charley, with Tony and Clare close behind, 
rushed to the door and looked into the next 
room, hardly knowing what to expect. Cer- 
tainly none of them expected what they saw. 
The clovers still had the place of honor in 
the center of the table but a little way to the 
left and right stood two tall vases, filled with 
exquisite pale pink roses. Delicate sprays 
of smilax lay in graceful festoons, here and 
there, and at each place was a tiny white 
crepe paper basket, filled with pale pink and 
green and white mints, and with a clover or 
two twisted into the handle of each. 

“Why, how lovely! Who ever could have 
done it?^’ wondered Tony. 

Suddenly Charley stooped with an ex- 
clamation and picked up a boy’s pen-knife 
which lay on the window-seat, as if it had 
been left by accident. 

‘ ‘ Phil ! ’ ’ was all she could say, and before 
the others entirely realized the force of her 


306 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


exclamation, Charley plumped down on the 
seat and began to cry. ‘‘Oh, dear! And 
I’ve b-been so h-horrid,” she sobbed. 

“Never mind. Eun over and ask him 
quick,” urged Clare, taking command. 
“Tony, go ask Ted. I’ll put in the two ex- 
tra places.” 

Tony was already off but Charley paused 
long enough to wail, “I meant to ask ’em, 
anyway. I told Miss Marjorie I would. Oh, 
dear! Why didn’t I do it sooner?” 

“What difference does it make?” soothed 
her twin. “It’s all right so long as all the 
tabloids get here in the end.” And Clare 
busied herself rearranging the place cards to 
make room for the two more guests as- Char- 
ley flew off to deliver her tardy invitation. 

“I wish to goodness she had decided it 
sooner,” admitted Clare to Jean as soon as 
Charley was beyond earshot. “We ought to 
have two more menus and place cards.” 

Jean smiled and went to the sideboard 
drawer from which she took a large enve- 
lope. 

“Here you are,” she said. “Like Tony, I 


PREPARATIONS 


307 


liad a ‘huncli.’ At least, I hoped we might 
need ’em.’^ 

‘^Oh, Jean, you are a jewel as Clare 
hastily opened the package and drew out two 
menu cards and two dainty place cards, both 
decorated like the others on the table, with a 
tiny three-leaf clover, and one inscribed with 
the name, ‘^Sir Philip Lambert,^’ the other 
with, ‘ ^ Sir Edward Holiday. ’ ’ 

Meanwhile Charley had sped across the 
street and, as it happened, ran square into 
Phil, who was coming out of the living-room 
just as she went in. 

‘‘Phil! Oh, Phiir^ was all she could say, 
for a minute. 

“Fill? Fill? What shall I fill?’’ laughed 
her brother. His tone was teasing but the 
sharp note which had been in it all the week 
had disappeared. “What’s all this about?” 

“About you. Mumsie, he fixed the dining- 
room so beautifully with roses and every- 
thing. And I’ve been so hateful! Phil, 
please, please, will you come to the banquet? 
I was going to ask you, anyway. Ask Miss 
Marjorie if I wasn’t.” Charley’s words 


308 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


fairly tumbled over each other in their haste 
to get out but Phil seemed to understand for 
all that. 

‘‘All right, Twinnie. ’Nulf said. 1^11 
come with pleasure, if you really want me, 
though I didn’t do it for that purpose. And 
see here, Chari, I’m sorry I plagued you 
about the play. Honest, I didn’t know it 
would upset you so, but, anyway, I guess it 
was one of the things better left undone,” 
he added with a twinkle. “You are asking 
Ted, too, I take it?” hastily as his sister 
looked as if she were about to burst forth 
again. 

“Oh, yes. Tony’s inviting him, and 
Clare’s fixing the places. My goodness ! I’d 
better fly back or there won’t be any ban- 
quet.” And she vanished as speedily as she 
had arrived. 

Left alone, Phil met his mother’s eyes 
rather self-consciously. 

“Well, I did get even, after all,” he said 
whimsically. 

“You certainly did, in master fashion. 
One of the most efficient getting evens I ever 


PREPARATIONS 


309 


heard she smiled. suppose it^s 

hardly fair to ask if this was the revenge you 
were plotting last night ? ’ ^ 

He laughed and colored. 

began to plot this one about nine thirty 
p. M. Up to that time the least said the bet- 
ter about my plots. You took an awful ad- 
vantage of me, Mums. The most dastardly 
thing you can do is to tell me you trust me to 
be decent. ^ ’ 

‘Hdl bet Phil put every cent he was sav- 
ing for a new camera into those roses and 
things,^’ Clare was saying at the moment, 
over across the street. 

‘‘Ted borrowed money from Uncle Phil 
and he’s going to pay it back out of his al- 
lowance,” volunteered Tony, who had man- 
aged to inform herself on several points. 

“Mercy! Those boys will be sprouting 
wings next. How did they ever get the stuff 
here anyway?” 

“Mr. Maybury got it for them in Gardner 
this morning. He brought them up this 
afternoon and smuggled them into the office. 
He and Uncle Phil were in the secret.” 


310 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘^Some secret! Girls, do taste these peas 
and see if they are salt enough. IVe tasted 
until I ^most haven’t any tongue left.” 

‘‘You might get on faster if you hadn’t 
any of you any tongues,” remarked Jean 
somewhat caustically. “Do you realize it’s 
nearly half-past six? And we have to be 
ready and dressed by seven.” 

At which uncompromising statement of 
facts the tongues subsided and the fingers 
flew fastei in proportion. 

Just as the tall “Grandfather clock” in 
the hall tolled the hour of seven, Tony 
danced down the stairs a vision of delight in 
her beruffled white gown, with her eyes starry 
with excitement and her cheeks more like 
“Jack” roses than ever. 

“My stars!” muttered Dick, who chanced 
to be waiting at the foot of the stairs. 

“Don’t I look nice!” And Tony pro- 
ceeded to pirouette on the toes of her small 
pink satin slippers before the boy’s dazzled 
gaze. “My, but so do you,” she added, com- 
ing to a halt and giving him a comprehensive 
survey. She couldn’t help thinking what a 


PREPARATIONS 


311 


contrast he presented from the miserable, 
sick lad she had found in the hay loft not so 
many weeks ago. 

He stared down at her gloomily, uncom- 
fortably conscious of his ‘‘best clothes’’ and 
“store tie.” 

“Lord knows how I look! I feel like a 
trussed fowl, ’ ’ he admitted. “ I ’ve a mind to 
cut and run.” 

“You’ll do nothing of the kind. You 
promised you’d never run away again. 
What makes you want to, anyway T’ won- 
dered Tony. 

“I don’t, exactly. But I’m plum scared. 
I haven’t any idea how to behave at a ban- 
quet. I never went to one in my life.” 

“Neither did I,” giggled Tony. “We are 
quite in the same boat, so cheer up. There 
come Phil and the twins and Miss Marjorie. 
Wherever are Ted and Larry?” 

But just at that moment the boys came rac- 
ing each other down the stairs, and Dr. Phil 
came out of the office, and the party being 
fully assembled marched gaily into the din- 
ing-room where the cooks became hostesses. 


312 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


as Mary Anne Eliza now took charge of the 
kitchen end of the affair, assisted by her 
niece, Phyllis Esmeralda, whose services as 
maid had been bespoken for the occasion as 
another of ‘ ‘ Granny ^s^’ contributions. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE BAISTQUET 

It was a most delectable feast to which the 
Ladies of the Round Table had bidden the 
Knights. But even more satisfactory than 
the delicious food was the pervading atmos- 
phere of peace and good will and happiness, 
all doubly grateful after the storm and stress 
of the past two weeks. 

At last they came to the toasts and Dr. 
Phil opened the festivities by a funny speech 
which set them all laughing and in fine mood 
to receive whatever was to follow. 

‘‘We hear a great deal,’’ he concluded, 
“about the 


^days of old 

When knights were bold,^ 

but I am inclined to think we don’t hear 
enough about the mothers and the wives and 
the sisters and the sweethearts who inspired 

313 


314 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


the knights to their deeds of prowess. I be- 
lieve then, as now, there wouldn’t have been 
much that was really worth while accom- 
plished without that other better half of crea- 
tion. So I give you the first toast of the eve- 
ning — The Ladies — ^which will be responded 
to by Sir Laurence Holiday.” 

Larry rose with his usually half languid 
ease and perfect self-possession. Watching 
him. Dr. Phil was forcibly reminded, once 
again, of the lad’s father. How much alike 
the two were in so many ways! The outer 
similarity had always been marked but the 
essential likeness was beginning to show 
these days. ‘^Please God, he’ll make as fine 
a man,” thought the doctor. ‘‘He has it in 
him, I believe.” 

“The Ladies — ” began Larry deliberately. 
“It’s a large subject. I’m afraid I’m not 
equal to handling it as it deserves. Anyway, 
the ladies speak for themselves. At least, 
the ladies I am acquainted with, do,” he 
added with a twinkle. “But there is another 
thing that speaks for itself and that’s what 
we’ve had to eat to-night. I don’t believe 


THE BANQUET 


315 


any of those 'knights of old’ ever sat down to 
a better feast than the one we’ve just been 
enjoying. I am sure I am expressing the sen- 
timents of all the Knights of the Order here 
assembled when I say we are mighty glad to 
be here to-night with — the Ladies.” 

Amid the applause which greeted his con- 
cluding words, Larry stooped and lifted his 
glass from the table, waved it gallantly and 
raised it to his lips, a performance in which 
the rest followed his lead, as he sat down. 

"Dear me, I never would have remembered 
the toast,” sighed Clare. "It’s a wonder I 
hadn’t drunk my punch all up in my excite- 
ment. Wasn’t that a dandy speech, Tony?” 
she leaned in front of Dick, at the end of the 
table, to ask of Antoinette, who sat next, be- 
tween Dick and her uncle. "Sounds as if 
he’d been making ’em all his life,” she added. 

"He has,” gibed Tony, in revenge for her 
brother’s "speak for themselves” hit, but 
she was immensely proud of Larry for all 
that. 

"Hush.” Clare put her fingers on her 
lips for Dr. Phil was speaking. 


316 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


‘^Our next toast — The Round Table — Lady 
Jean Lambert/’ introduced the doctor with a 
low bow. 

Jean rose timidly, with a becoming flush in 
her cheeks and her eyes very bright. It was 
an entirely new experience for her to be called 
on to express her inmost thoughts before a 
group of eager, critical, young listeners. 

‘‘I can’t make a speech like Larry,” she 
began. ‘‘I don’t know how, and, anyway, I 
can’t joke about the Round Table. It means 
too much to me. It isn’t a play game. It’s 
real. Sometimes I think it’s the realest thing 
I’ve ever known. I’ve been trying to think 
just what the Round Table does mean and I 
think it’s mostly this — the togetherness of 
people. The Round Table is a whole and we 
are the parts. If any of the parts is false to 
the spirit of the whole, even in little ways, 
we’ve weakened the strength of the Order, as 
well as done ourselves harm. I don’t believe 
there’s one of us who hasn’t been ashamed of 
something he has done or said because it 
wasn’t quite in keeping with the Round Table 
and what it stands for. I don’t believe there 


THE BANQUET 


817 


is one of us who hasn’t tried a little, anyway, 
to live up to it. And I know there isn’t one 
of us who isn’t better for knowing its founder. 
Miss Marjorie Ericson.” 

It has been quite a speech after all. Jean 
had quite forgotten her shyness in the sin- 
cerity of her faith in what she was saying. 
As she slipped back into her seat, next to Miss 
Marjorie, she hardly dared to lift her eyes for 
fear she might meet some scoffing gaze. 
There was a moment’s silence, then every- 
body applauded enthusiastically, and looking 
up at last, Jean somehow realized more than 
she had ever done the sense of that together- 
ness” of which she had just spoken. She 
knew without need of words that they were 
all with her. 

‘‘Bravo, Jean,” said Dr. Phil. “That was 
a fine speech and we second every word of it, 
especially the last sentence.” The Toast 
Master smiled across at Miss Marjorie who 
sat opposite him, and something in his eyes 
made Jean turn quickly and look at her 
friend. There was the loveliest little flush on 
her cheeks, and her eyes, too, were alight with 


318 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


something Jean had not seen there before. 
All of a sudden, a bewildering fancy struck 
her. Delight and wonder and jealousy 
danced a wild little circle in her mind for a 
moment. If it were true — this fancy of hers 
— it was beautiful, quite the nicest thing that 
could possibly happen, only it was awfully 
hard to surrender Miss Marjorie even to Dr. 
Phil. And then Jean felt Miss Marjorie’s 
hand slip into hers behind Ted’s back, and 
meeting her friend’s eyes knew that nothing 
could make any real difference in their friend- 
ship. And then she realized that Phil was on 
his feet. 

‘‘I’m not scheduled to speak,” Phil was 
saying, “because up to the last minute I ex- 
pected not to be present, owing to affairs of 
state.” He paused a moment and a faint 
ripple of amusement ran around the table. 
“Nevertheless,” he continued, “here I am 
and only too glad to be here. I am requested 
by one of the Ladies — indeed I may say, the 
Lady, from whose mighty brain the plan of 
this banquet emerged like Minerva, full 
grown.” He bowed to Charley, whose face 


THE BANQUET 


319 


vas scarlet. ‘‘I am requested to present, in 
behalf of the Bound Table, this slight token 
of our good will and affection. ’ ’ And leaning 
across the table, Phil laid a small green box 
beside Miss Marjorie ^s glass. 

With the pretty color still in her face. Miss 
Marjorie opened the box and drew forth a 
dainty little green enamel and gold pin, in the 
shape of a three-leaf clover, with a tiny pearl 
in the center. 

‘‘Speech! Speech!’’ called Dr. Phil. 

She rose, and Jean thought she had never 
seen her look so lovely as she did at the mo- 
ment, in her pale pink evening dress, with the 
light from the rose-colored candle shades on 
her delicately flushed cheeks and the happy 
shine in her eyes. 

“Dear Knights and Ladies of the Bound 
Table, first of all, let me thank you for this 
lovely and unexpected gift which I prize very 
highly, not only for itself but for what it 
stands for. I want to thank you, too, for all 
you have done to make my summer such a 
happy one. You know, I never had any 
brothers and sisters until I came here and 


I 


320 THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 

now I have so many.’^ She looked around 
the table with a smile which included every 
Knight and Lady. ^‘You will be often in my 
thoughts when I go away and I know you will 
take extra good care to preserve the spirit of 
the Order because I ask it, though the honor 
of founding it belongs to Clare and not to 
me.’’ 

She paused a moment to smile at Clare and 
then leaned forward to touch a pink rose 
which bent toward her as if it too were listen- 
ing eagerly like the guests. 

‘‘The Bound Table is Jean’s toast, not 
mine,” she went on. “But I feel as if I 
would like to add a word to what she said so 
finely a moment ago. A few days ago, even 
yesterday, I could not have been so sure of 
the stability of the Order as I am to-night. 
In fact, it looked as if there wasn’t much left 
of the Table but its pieces.” She smiled a 
little again and Charley and Phil both 
dropped their eyes rather hastily. “I could 
do no more to save it than Arthur could his 
own order. And sometimes I doubted if it 
had meant as much as I had liked to think it 


THE BANQUET 


321 


had. And then, again, I told myself to wait 
and have faith. And to-night, as I have sat 
here with these roses before me, I know that 
the Table is real after all, just as Jean says. 
In behalf of the Ladies, especially, in behalf 
of the Lady, as Phil called her, I want to tell 
the Knights how loyally welcome they are, 
one and all. Let us drink then to — ^the 
Knights.’^ 

And amid the applause which greeted the 
toast. Miss Marjorie found a chance to send a 
smile across the table, a smile which included 
Phil and Charley who sat side by side. And 
somehow that smile completed the mutual 
satisfaction of the two, and more than made 
up for any sacrifice of pride that had been 
made. If, between them, they had managed 
nearly to banish the spirit of the Pound 
Table, between them they had managed to 
bring it back with renewed life. 

Tony was next called on to respond to the 
toast, ‘‘The Summer,’’ and brought things 
back to lighter mood by a gay little speech, re- 
calling the various frolics and adventures and 
quarrels and merry nonsense, which had made 


322 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


the vacation days what they were, a season of 
happy memories. 

As soon as she finished, Ted sprang up. 

^‘I^m not scheduled to speak either,’’ he 
said. ^ ^ But I ’d like to say I ’m glad I ’m here. 
I didn’t want to be a Knight, and I guess I’m 
not much of a one so you’d notice it, but I 
think the Bound Table’s a peach of a piece 
of furniture anyhow. ’ ’ 

And he sat down amid much approving ap- 
plause. 

‘‘Good for you, Teddy,” said Miss Mar- 
jorie softly in his ear. “I hoped we were go- 
ing to hear that.” 

In the meantime Larry had risen. 

“I’d like respectfully to call the attention 
of the Order to the fact that we have with us 
a gentleman who has not been formally 
dubbed Knight. To rectify which omission, 
I suggest that Kichard Carson be admitted to 
the Bound Table with all the responsibilities 
and privileges thereof.” 

‘ ‘ Lawsy ! What lovely words ! ’ ’ exclaimed 
Charley, softly. 

“Even better than Lady G.’s,” chuckled 


THE BANQUET 


323 


Phil, and they both giggled appreciatively. 
Lady G. was cast into the limbo of jokes at 
last. 

second the motion,’’ Ted was saying 
heartily, apropos of his brother’s suggestion. 
And Tony’s eyes testified as to her delighted 
approval. 

Dr. Phil noting the details with satisfaction 
was sure that at present none of his ‘‘guard- 
ees ’ ’ was open to the charge of snobbishness. 
Larry had won his spurs on this account as 
well as on others. 

Miss Marjorie had risen and crossing to 
where Dick sat, scarlet and confused, had bent 
over and fastened the clover blossoms from 
her own basket into his button hole. 

‘‘I dub you Knight of the Order, Sir Eich- 
ard,” she said. 

^‘Speech!” demanded Larry, as Miss Mar- 
jorie came back to her seat. 

Nearly overcome by the situation, Dick 
managed to get to his feet. 

‘‘I can’t make no — any speech,” he stam- 
mered. ‘^I’ve got a-plenty to say, all right, 
but I hain’t got the words. All I can say is 


324 


THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 


— thank ye/’ And he sat down, wiping his 
perspiring brow with his napkin, in his em- 
barrassment. 

Everybody clapped madly and looked about 
for somebody to suggest some new ceremony 
or entertainment. 

‘‘Is there any other business to come be- 
fore the Order T’ asked the Toast Master. 
Everybody hoped there was but nobody knew 
what it could be. Dr. Phil shot a quick, ques- 
tioning glance across the table and Miss Mar- 
jorie nodded. He rose and walked around 
the table to where she sat. 

“I’m going to make a speech myself,” he 
said. “Knights and Ladies of this noble Or- 
der, I am sure you will agree with me when 
I say that no matter how firmly the Bound 
Table stands on its four legs, there is danger 
of its upsetting unless its manager keeps her 
personal eye upon it. Therefore, I ask you 
to join with me in my satisfaction when I an- 
nounce that Mrs. Phil Holiday, at present 
known as Miss Marjorie Erieson, and your 
humble servant, will be at home in the bunga- 
low at the foot of the Hill any time after 


THE BANQUET 


325 


October first. I pledge you — the bride of the 
Hill — Miss Ericson!’’ And as the dazed but 
delighted company raised their glasses to 
drink the toast he stooped and kissed his 
‘ladylove.’’ 

And thus ended the banquet and the sum- 
mer, for the next day was the first of Sep- 
tember. And thus ends too, for the present, 
unless you ask for more, the tale of the hap- 
penings on Holiday Hill. 



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BLUE BONNET’S RANCH PARTY 

By Caroline E. Jacobs and Edyth Ellerbeck Read. 
“ A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every 
chapter .” — Boston Transcript. 

BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON; Or, Boarding- 

School Days at Miss North’s. 

By Caroline E. Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards. 

“ It is bound to become popular because of its whole- 
someness and its many human touches .” — Boston Globe. 

BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE; Or, The 

New Home in the East. 

By Caroline Ei Jacobs and Lela Horn Richards. 
“It cannot fail to prove fascinating to girls in their 
teens .” — New York Sun. 

BLUE BONNET— DEBUTANTE 

By Lela Horn Richards. 

An interesting picture of the unfolding of life for 
Blue Bonnet. 

A— 1 


THE PAGE COMPANY'S 


THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES 

By Harrison Adams 

Each ISmo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per 
volume $1.25 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO; Or, 

Clearing the Wilderness. 

“ Such books as this are an admirable means of stimu- 
lating among the young Americans of to-day interest in 
the story of their pioneer ancestors and the early days of 
the Republic.” — Boston Globe. 

THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES; 

Or, On the Trail of the Iroquois. 

“ The recital of the daring deeds of the frontier is not 
only interesting but instructive as well and shows the 
sterling type of character which these days of self-reliance 
and trial produced.” — American Tourist, Chicago. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI; 

Or, The Homestead in the Wilderness. 

“The story is told with spirit, and is full of adv«i- 
ture.” — New York Sun. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI; 

Or, In the Country of the Sioux. 

“ Vivid in style, vigorous in movement, full of dramatic 
situations, true to historic perspective, this story is a 
capital one for boys.” — Watchman Examiner, New York 
City. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOW- 
STONE; Or, Lost in the Land or Wonders. 
“There is plenty of lively adventure and action and 
the story is well told.” — Duluth Herald, Duluth, Minn. 

THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA; 

Or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest. 

“ The story is full of spirited action and contains mudi 
valuable historical information.” — Boston Herald, 

A— 0 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE HADLEY HALL SERIES 

By Louise M. Breitenbach 
Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per 
volume $1.50 

ALMA AT HADLEY HALL 

“ The autJior is to be congratulated on having written 
such an appealing book for girls.” — Detroit Free Press. 

ALMA’S SOPHOMORE YEAR 

“ It cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things 
in girls’ books.” — Boston Herald. 

ALMA’S JUNIOR YEAR 

“ The diverse characters in the boarding-school are 
strongly drawn, the incidents are well developed and the 
action is nerver dull.” — The Boston Herald. 

ALMAZS SENIOR YEAR 

“Incident abounds in all of Miss Breitenbach’s stories 
and a healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every 
chapter.” — Boston Transcript. 


THE GIRLS OF 
FRIENDLY TERRACE SERIES 

By Harriet Lummis Smith 
Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 
per volume $1.50 

THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE 

“ A book sure to please girl readers, for the author seems 
to understand perfectly the girl character.” — Boston, 
Globe. 

PEGGY RAYMOND’S VACATION 

“ It is a wholesome, hearty story.” — Utica Observer. 

PEGGY RAYMOND’S SCHOOL DAYS 

The book is delightfully written, and contains lots of exciting 
incidents. 

A— 3 


THE PAGE COMPANY’S 


FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES 

By Charles H. L. Johnston 
Bach large 12mo, cloth dc'nrrative, illustrated, per 
volume $1.60 

FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS 

“ More of such books should be written, books that 
acquaint young readers with historical personages in a 
pleasant, informal way.” — New York Sun. 

“ It is a book that will stir the heart of every boy and 
will prove interesting as well to the adults.” — Lawr&nce 
Daily World. 

FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS 

“ Mr. Johnston has done faithful work in this volume, 
and his relation of battles, sieges and struggles of these 
famous Indians with the whites for the possession of 
America is a worthy addition to United States History.” 
— New York Marine Journal, 

FAMOUS SCOUTS 

“ It is the kind of a book that will have a great fascina- 
tion for boys and young men, and while it t ntertains them 
it will also present valuable information in regard to 
those who have left their impress upon the history of the 
country.” — The New London Day. 

FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVEN- 
TURERS OF THE SEA 

“ The tales are more than merely interesting; they are 
entrancing, stirring the blood with trilling force and 
bringing new zest to the never-ending interest in the 
dramas of the sea.” — The Pittsburgh Post. 

FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES 
OF THE BORDER 

This book is devoted to a description of the adventiiff- 
ous lives and stirring experiences of many pioneer heroes 
who were prominently identified with the opening of the 
Great West. 

“ The accounts are not only authentic, but distinctly 
readable, making a book of wide appeal to all who love 
the history of actual adventure.” — Cleveland Leader, 
A— 4 


BOOR^ FOB TOTING PFOPLF 


HILDEGARDE- MARGARET SERIES 

By Laura E. Richards 
Eleven Volumes 

The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with 
“ Queen Hildegarde ” and ending with “ The Merry- 
weathers,” make one of the best and most popular series 
of books for girls ever written. 

Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 
per volume ....... $1.25 

• The eleven volumes boxed as a set . , , $13.75 

LIST OF TITLES 

QUEEN HILDEGARDE 

HILDEGARDE »S HOLIDAY 

HILDEGARDE’S HOME 

HILDEGARDE’S NEIGHBORS 

HILDEGARDE ’S HARVEST 

THREE MARGARETS 

MARGARET MONTFORT 

PEGGY 

RITA 

FERNLEY HOUSE 
THE MERRYWEATHERS 

A— 5 


THE PAGE COMP ANTS 


THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES 

By Laura E. Richards 
Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per 
volume . . • • • • .50 cents 

CAPTAIN JANUARY 

A charming idyl of New England coast life, whose 
success has been very remarkable. 

SAME. Illustrated Holiday Edition . . $1.25 

SAME, French Text. Illustrated Holiday 
Edition ....... $1.25 

MELODY: The Story of a Child. 

SAME. Illustrated Holiday Edition . . $1.25 

MARIE 

A companion to “Melody” and “Captain January.” 

ROSIN THE BEAU 

A sequel to “ Melody ” and “ Marie.” 
SNOW-WHITE; Or, The House in the Wood. 

JIM OF HELLAS; Or, In Durance Vile, and 
a companion story, Bethesda Pool. 

NARCISSA 

And a companion story. In Verona, being two de- 
lightful short stories of New England life. 

“SOME SAY’’ 

And a companion story, Neighbors in Cyrus. 

NAUTILUS 

“ ‘ Nautilus ’ is by far the best product of the author’s 
powers, and is certain to achieve the wide success it so 
richly merits.” 

ISLA HERON 

This interesting story is written in the author’s usual 
charming manner. 

THE LITTLE MASTER 

“ A well told, interesting tale of a high character.” — 

Qoliforwia Gateway Gazette, 

A— « 


BOOKS FOR rOUXO PEOPLE 


DELIGHTFUL BOOKS FOR LITTLE 
FOLKS 

By Lauea E. Richards 

THREE MINUTE STORIES 

Cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight plates in full color 
and many text illustrations by Josephine Bruce. 

Net $1.25; carriage paid $1.40 
“ Little ones will understand and delight in the stories 
and poems .” — Indianavolis News. 

FIVE MINUTE STORIES 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . ' $1.25 
A charming collection of short stories and clever poems 
for children. 

MORE FIVE MINUTE STORIES 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.25 
A noteworthy collection of short stories and poems 
for children, which will prove as popular with mothers 
as with boys and girls. 

FIVE MICE IN A MOUSE TRAP 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.25 

The story of their lives and other wonderful things 
related by the Man in the Moon, done in the vernacular 
from the lunacular form by Laura E. Richards. 

WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE 

Cloth, 8vo, illustrated . . . . . $1.25 

The title most happily introduces the reader to the 
charming home life of Doctor Howe and Mrs. Julia 
Ward Howe, during the childhood of the author. 

A HAPPY LITTLE TIME 

Cloth, 8vo, illustrated $1.25 

Little Betty and the happy time she had will appeal 
strongly to mothers as well as to the little ones who will 
have this story read to them, and appeal all the more 
on account of its being such a “ real ” story. 

A— T 


THE PAGE COMPANY’S 


THE BOYS’ STORY OF THE 
RAILROAD SERIES 

By Burton E. Stevenson 

Each large ISmo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per 
volume $1.50 

THE YOUNG SECTION - HAND ; Or, The Ad- 

ventures OF Allan West. 

‘‘ A thrilling story, well told, clean and bright. The 
whole range of section railroading is covered in the story, 
and it contains information as well as interest.” — Chicago 
Post. 

THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER 

“ A vivacious account of the varied and often hazard- 
ous nature of railroad life, full of incident and adventure, 
in which the author has woven admirable advice about 
honesty, manliness, self-culture, good reading, and the 
secrets of success.” — Congregationalist. 

THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER 

“ It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to 
anyone who loves a good, wholesome, thrilhng, informing 
yarn.” — Passaic News. 

THE YOUNG APPRENTICE J Or, Allan West’s 
Chum. 

“ The story is intensely interesting, and one gains an 
intimate knowledge of the methods and works in the 
great car shops not easily gained elsewhere.” — Baltimore 
Sun. 

“ It appeals to every boy of enterprising spirit, and at 
the same time teaches him some valuable lessons in honor, 
pluck, and perseverance.” — Cleveland Plain Dealer. 

“ The lessons that the books teach in development of 
uprightness, honesty and true manly character are sure 
to appeal to the reader.” — The American Boy. 

A— 8 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS 

(Trade Mark) 

By Annie Fellows Johnston 
Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume . $1.50 
THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES 

(Trade Mark) 

Being three “ Little Colonel ” stories in the Cosy Corner 
Series, “ The Little Colonel,” “ Two Little Knights of 
Kentucky,” and “ The Giant Scissors,” in a single volume, 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOUSE PARTY 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HOLIDAYS 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S HERO 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING- 

(Trade Mark) 

SCHOOL 

THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S CHRISTMAS 

(Trade Mark) 

VACATION 

THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR 

(Trade Mark) 

THE LITTLE COLONEL’S KNIGHT COMES 

(Trade Mark) 

RIDING 

MARY WARE: THE LITTLE COLONEL’S 

(Trade Mark) 

CHUM 

MARY WARE IN TEXAS 
MARY WARE’S PROMISED LAND 

These twelve volumes, boxed as a set, $18.00. 

A— 9 


THE HAGE COMPANY’S 


SPECIAL HOLIDAY EDITIONS 

Each small quarto, cloth decorative, per volume . $1.25 

New plates, handsomely illustrated with eight full-page 
drawings in color, and many marginal sketches. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL 

(Trade Mark) 

TWO LITTLE KNIGHTS OF KENTUCKY 
THE GIANT SCISSORS 
BIG BROTHER 

THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES 

Each small 16mo, cloth decorative, with frontispiece 

and decorative text borders, per volume . Net $0.50 

IN THE DESERT OF WAITING: The Legend 
OF Camels ACK Mountain. 

THE THREE WEAVERS: A Fairy Tale for 
Fathers and Mothers as Well as for Their 
Daughters. 

KEEPING TRYST: A Tale of King Arthur’s 
Time. 

THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART 
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME: 

A Fairy Play for Old and Young. 

THE JESTER’S SWORD 


THE LITTLE COLONEL’S GOOD TIMES 
BOOK 

Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series . $1.60 

Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold . i Net 3.00 
Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg. 

“ A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may 
record the good times she has on decorated pages, and 
under the directions as it were of Annie Fellows John- 
ston.” — Buffalo Express, 

A— 10 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK — 
First Series 

Quarto, boards, printed in colors . , . 

A series of “Little Colonel” dolls. Each has several 
changes of costume, so they can be appropriately clad 
for the rehearsal of any scene or incident in the series. 

THE LITTLE COLONEL DOLL BOOK— 
Second Series 

Quarto, boards, printed in colors . . . $1,50 

An artistic series of paper dolls, including not only 
lovable Mary Ware, the Little Colonel’s chum, but many 
another of the much loved characters which appear in 
the last three volumes of the famous “ Little Colonel 
Series.” 

ASA HOLMES 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. 

With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery. 

16mo, cloth decorative, gilt top . . . $1.00 

“ ‘ Asa Holmes ’ is the most delightful, most syinpa- 
thetic and wholesome book that has been published in a 
long while.” — Boston Times. 

TRAVELERS FIVE: ALONG LIFE'S HIGH- 
WAY 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. 

With an introduction by Bliss Carman, and a frontis- 
piece by E. H. Garrett. 

12mo, cloth decorative . . . . . . $1.25 

“ Mrs. Johnston broadens her reputation with this book 
so rich in the significance of common things.” — Boston 
Advertiser. 

JOEL: A BOY OF GALILEE 

By Annie Fellows Johnston. 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ The book is a very clever handling of the greatest 
event in the history of the world.” — Rochester y N.Y»t 
H&rald. 

A— 11 


THE PAGE COMPANY’S 


THE BOYS’ STORY OF THE ARMY 
SERIES 

By Florence Kimball Russel 

BORN TO THE BLUE 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated , . . $1.25 

“ The story deserves warm commendation and genuine 
popularity.” — Army and Navy Register, 

IN WEST POINT GRAY 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ One of the best books that deals with West Point.” — 
New York Sun, 

FROM CHEVRONS TO SHOULDER- 
STRAPS 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

“ The life of a cadet at West Point is nortrayed very 
realistically.” — The Hartford Post, Hartford, Conn. 

DOCTOR’S LITTLE GIRL SERIES 

By Marion Ames Taggart 

Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, 'per volume, $1.50 

THE DOCTOR’S LITTLE GIRL 

“ A charming story of the ups and downs of the life 
of a dear little maid.” — The Churchman. 

SWEET NANCY: The Further Adventures of 
THE Doctor’s Little Girl. 

“Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence 
cannot but be elevating.” — New York Sun. 

NANCY, THE DOCTOR’S LITTLE PARTNER 

“ The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many 
girls of wholesome tastes will enjoy.” — Springfield Union. 

NANCY PORTER’S OPPORTUNITY 

“ Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young 
woman, with plenty of pluck.” — Boston Globe. 

NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS 

“The story is refreshing.” — New York Sun. 

A— 1« 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


WORKS OF EVALEEN STEIN 

THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by Adelaide 

Everhart $1.25 

This story happened many hundreds of years ago ia 
the quaint Flemish city of Bruges and concerns a little 
girl named Karen, who worked at lace-making with her 
aged grandmother. 

GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK 

Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and 
decorated in colors by Adelaide Everhart . . $1,00 

“No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the 
elements that stir the hearts of children and grown-ups as 
well as do the stories so admirably told by this author.’* 

— Louisville Daily Courier. 

A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by Diantha 

H. Marlowe $1,25 

“ The story should be one of the influences in the life 
of every child to whom good stories can be made to 
appeal.” — Public Ledger. 

THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by John Goss $1.25 
“ This touching and pleasing story is told with a wealth 
of interest coupled with enlivening descriptions of the 
country where its scenes are laid and of the people thereof.” 

— Wilmington Every Evening. 


ELEANOR OF THE HOUSEBOAT 

By Louise M. Breitenbach. 

12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 

An unusually interesting story of how Eleanor Tracy 
spent a wonderful summer on a houseboat. 

A— 13 


THE PAGE COMP ANTS 


HISTORICAL BOOKS 

THE BOYS OF ^6l ; Or, Four Years of Fighting. 
By Charles Carleton Coffin. 

Standard Edition. An entirely new edition, cloth deco- 
rative, 8vo, with nearly two hundred illustrations, $2.00 
Popular Edition. Cloth decorative, 12mo, with eight 
illustrations . . . . . . . $1.00 

A record of personal observation with the Army and 
Navy, from the Battle of Bull Run to the fall of Rich- 
mond. 

THE BOYS OF 1812 ; And Other Naval Heroes. 
By James Russell Soley. 

Cloth decorative, 8vo, illustrated . . . $2.00 

“ The book is full of stirring incidents and adven- 
tures.” — Boston Herald. 

the sailor boys of ’6 i 

By James Russell Soley. 

Cloth decorative, 8vo, illustrated . . . $2.00 

“ It is written with an enthusiasm that never allows 
the interest to slacken.” — The Call, Newark, N. J. 

BOYS OF FORT SCHUYLER 

By James Otis. 

Cloth decorative, square 12mo, illustrated . $1.25 
“ It is unquestionably one of the best historical Indian 
stories ever written.” — Boston Herald. 

FAMOUS WAR STORIES 

By Charles Carleton Coffin 
Each cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per voh, $1.25 

WINNING HIS WAY 

A stoiy of a young soldier in the Civil War. 

MY DAYS AND NIGHTS ON THE BAT- 
TLEFIELD 

A story of the Battle of Bull Run and other battles in 
Kentucky, Tennessee, and on the Mississippi. 

FOLLOWING THE FLAG 

A story of tbe Army of the Potomac in the Civil War. 
A— 14 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE SANDMAN SERIES 

By William J. Hopkins 
Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, 'per 
volume $1.50 

THE SANDMAN : His Farm Stories. 

“ Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who take 
the little ones to bed and rack their brains for stories will 
find this book a treasure.” — Cleveland Leader. 

THE SANDMAN: More Farm Stories. 

“ Children will call for these stories over and over 
again.” — Chicago Evening Post. 

THE SANDMAN : His Ship Stories. 

“ Little ones will understand and delight in the stories 
and their parents will read between the lines and recognize 
the poetic and artistic work of the author.” — Indianap- 
olis News. 

THE SANDMAN: His Sea Stories. 

“Once upon a time there was a man who knew little 
children and the kind of stories they liked, so he wrote 
four books of Sandman’s stories, all about the farm or 
the sea, and the brig Industry, and this book is one of 
them.” — Canadian Congregationalist. 

STORIES OF NEWSBOY LIFE 

By James Otis 

Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per 
volume ........ $1.25 

JENNY WREN’S BOARDING HOUSE 

A story of newsboy life in New York. 

“ The secret of the author’s success lies in his wonder- 
ful sympathy with the aspirations of child-life, his truth- 
ful delineation of life among the children who act as his 
object lessons.” — New York Sun. 

TEDDY AND CARROTS; Or, Two Merchants 

OF Newspaper Row. 

His newsboys are real and wide-awake, and his story 
abounds with many exciting scenes and graphic incidents. 
A— 15 


tHE PAGE COMPANY’S 


WORKS OF 

MARSHALL SAUNDERS 

Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per 
volume $1.50 

BEAUTIFUL JOE’S PARADISE ] Or, The Island 
OF Brotherly Love. A Sequel to “ Beautiful Joe.” 

“ This book revives the spirit of ‘ Beautiful Joe ’ capi- 
tally. It is fairly riotous with fun, and is about as unusual 
as anything in the animal book line that has seen the 
light.” — Philadelphia Item. 

’TILDA JANE 

“ I cannot think of any better book for children than 
this. I commend it unreservedly.” — Cyrus T. Brady. 

’TILDA JANE’S ORPHANS. A Sequel to ‘-Tilda 
Jane.” 

“It is written in the author’s best vein, and presents 
a variety of interesting characters.” — New London Day, 

’TILDA JANE IN CALIFORNIA 

The story is full of life and action, and troubles, which 
lead to character building, mingled with fun and cheer- 
fulness, and is a wholesome book to put in the hands of 
girl readers. 

PUSSY BLACK -FACE I The Story op a Kitten 
AND Her Friends. 

“ This is one of Marshall Saunders’s best stories, and 
Miss Saunders has an enviable reputation as a writer of 
animal life.” — Los Angeles, Cal., Express. 

THE STORY OF THE GRAVELYS 

“ The story is full of that refinement which appeals to 
the best taste. It takes for its motto Cardinal Gibbons’s 
expression that ‘ A child’s needless tear is a blood-blot 
on this earth,’ and works out a beautiful and moving 
.Btory.” — St. Louis Globe-Democrat, 

A— 16 


BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 


THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES 

(trade mark) 

Each volume illustrated with six or more full page plates in 
tint. Cloth, i 2 mo, with decorative cover, 
per volume, 6o cents 

LIST OF TITLES 
By Mary Hazelton Wade, Mary F. 
Nixon-Roulet, Blanche McManus, 
Clara V. Winlow, Florence E. 
Mendel and Others 

Our Little African Cousin Our Little Hungarian Cousin 
Our Little Alaskan Cousin Our Little Indian Cousin 
Our Little Arabian Cousin Our Little Irish Cousin 
Our Little Argentine Cousin Our Little Italian Cousin 
Our Little Armenian Cousin Our Littie Japanese Cousin 
Our Little Australian Cousin Our Little Jewish Cousin 
Our Little Austrian Cousin Our Little Korean Cousin 
Our Little Belgian Cousin Our Little Malayan (Brown) 
Our Little Boer Cousin Cousin 

Our Little Bohemian Cousin Our Little Mexican Cousin 
Our Little Brazilian Cousin Our Little Norwegian Cousin 
Our Little Bulgarian Cousin Our Little Panama Cousin 
Our Little Canadian Cousin Our Little Persian Cousin 
Our Little Chinese Cousin Our Little Philippine Cousin 
Oiu- Little Cuban Cousin Our Little Polish Cousin 
Our Little Danish Cousin Our Little Porto Rican Cousin 
Our Little Dutch Cousin Our Little Portuguese Cousin 
Our Little Egyptian Cousin Our Little Russian Cousin 
Our Little English Cousin Our Little Scotch Cousin 
Our Little Eskimo Cousin Our Little Servian Cousin 
Our Little French Cousin Our Little Siamese Cousin 
Our Little German Cousin Our Little Spanish Cousin 
Our Little Grecian Cousin Our Little Swedish Cousin 

Our Little Hawaiian Cousin Our Littie Swiss Cousin 
Our Little Hindu Cousin Our Little Turkish Cousin 
A— 17 


THE PAGE COMPANY’S 


THE LITTLE COUSINS OF LONG 
AGO SERIES 

The volumes in this series describe the boys and girls 
of ancient times. 

Each small 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated 60c. 

OUR LITTLE ATHENIAN COUSIN OF 
LONG AGO 

By Julia Darhow Cowles, 

OUR LITTLE CARTHAGINIAN COUSIN 
OF LONG AGO 

By Clara V. Winlow. 

OUR LITTLE MACEDONIAN COUSIN OF 
LONG AGO 

By J ULiA Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE NORMAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Evaleen Stein. 

OUR LITTLE ROJVIAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE SAXON COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE SPARTAN COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Julia Darrow Cowles. 

OUR LITTLE VIKING COUSIN OF LONG 
AGO 

By Charles H. L. Johnston. 

IN PREPARATION 

OUR LITTLE POMPEIIAN COUSIN OF 
LONG AGO 
A— 18 




